


if you are not to become a monster

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ame Nin Uchiha Obito, Developing Relationship, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Lovers, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Kidnapping, M/M, Obito has unhealthy levels of devotion, Pre-Canon, grey morality, so does Konan though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-08-13 18:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: There are better paths to world peace than Madara's. Konan and Obito have found one, whether the rest of the world likes it or not, and they're not about to let anything stand in their way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for the prompt: How about Obito/Tobi attempting to snatch Naruto and getting a spitting mad, very protective Iruka as a tagalong? 
> 
> However, it's gained a life of its own and i have no idea where we're going now, so. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

****

“This isn’t going to go well,” Konan says.

Obito’s hands are sweating, and his breath feels short. Grimly, he rubs his hands against his pants, feeling something like terror curl in his chest, and lifts his chin. “He’s _six_,” he says. “What’s he going to do, cry at me?”

Konan snorts, but she draws her hood up over her face with one hand, sheets of paper already starting to slough off her skin and whirl away in the breeze. Curled in her other arm, slumped against her shoulder, her burden shifts, eyes falling on Obito with steady, wary attention.

“You can still change your mind,” she says, though the look on her face is cold, steady.

If he does, Obito is fairly sure that Konan won’t let him survive the experience. He rolls his eye, starting down the slope, and tries not to be glad that she falls into step, shoulder all but braced against his.

“It’s a really bad idea,” he says, more because it needs to be than because he’s going to let that fact stop him.

Konan hums lightly, and in the evening light her eyes seem to glow. “Not as bad as Madara’s Eye of the Moon plan,” she says disdainfully, and Obito barks out a laugh.

“Not much is as bad as _any_ of Madara’s plans,” he agrees, and stops at the crest of the hill. There’s a short cliff that drops away, then a sea of trees stretching down to Konoha’s walls. Distantly, Obito can feel the pulse and hum of human chakra, the lives of the villagers condensed down to power and little else, but all of his attention is on the trees themselves, the ancient, deep-seated strength of them. Konoha as a village is built upon a foundation of Mokuton, tangled up in the roots of the trees and plants that occupy it. It’s a safeguard, usually, but—

No one in the village is expecting an enemy with their Shodai’s fabled bloodline.

Carefully, gently, Konan eases her burden down, letting the girl slide to her feet. “Do you see him?” she asks.

Karin looks from her to the village below, then reaches up and tugs her glasses down. Her eyes widen, and immediately she nods, pointing down towards the rising spire of the Administration Building. “He’s over there,” she says. “In the building, with three other people.”

“Thanks, Karin,” Obito says, resting a hand on her shoulder, and she casts him a quick, shy smile before she wraps a fist in Konan’s cloak.

“Is he going to come back with us?” she asks solemnly.

“Yes,” Konan says simply, and pauses. She glances down at Karin for a moment, conflicted, but before she has to make a decision Obito pulls the cloak from his own shoulders, drops it over Karin and buries her in dark fabric. 

“So you don’t get cold,” he says, not looking at her.

There’s a quiet breath, and Karin wraps the fabric around herself with a small smile, tugging the hood up until it almost falls over her eyes. “We match now,” she tells Konan.

Konan smiles back, small but as kind as Obito has ever seen her, and says, “We’ll be back soon, Karin. If you sense anyone coming, hide.”

“Or stab them,” Obito adds, mostly for the narrow look Konan levels at him. He smirks at her, and she rolls her eyes, but steps up next to him.

“You can manage this?” she asks softly.

Obito takes a breath. “Of course I can,” he says grimly, and meets her stare evenly. “Can you?”

Konan’s smile is perfectly humorless. “To take power away from the largest villages? Of course.” Her gaze drifts over Konoha, and there’s something like contempt, something like fury in her face. “I won’t let Ame be a casualty again.”

Obito wonders, just a little, how it is that the man with the only Rinnegan currently in existence is somehow far less dangerous than one quiet kunoichi with a talent for turning herself into paper. He hadn’t expected that, when he dragged himself to meet them the first time. But—he’d so very much rather face Nagato in a fight than Konan that it’s almost comical. Nagato, at least, is just mad with grief; Konan is deadly with it.

“If Naruto is near the Academy, there will be people around,” he says, instead of telling her that. “Probably including the Hokage.”

Konan's eyes are perfectly cold. “Then I’ll have to distract them _thoroughly_,” she says, and raises her head. Smiles, just a little, but it’s arctic and cruel. “Look. It’s going to rain.”

Obito glances up at the thick clouds, only getting lower, and snorts. “Perfect,” he says, and doesn’t mean it. Konan's scariest when she’s motivated, after all, and having this much of a reminder of Ame hanging over their heads will make her especially ruthless. He almost pities the Sandaime. “You know he’s probably not going to come out and fight directly, right?”

“I don’t care.” Sharp, precise, like a cut across the jugular. Konan keeps her eyes on the clouds, and says, “You're going to have to fight your old team.”

With a bitter laugh, Obito pulls his mask down, fitting the featureless white porcelain over his face. “One third of my old team,” he corrects, because Rin is dead. Rin is dead and war is brewing and he hates hates _hates_ this world they live in so damn much. “I can take Kakashi. You just focus on making a mess.”

Paper blooms and curls across Konan's face, framing her eyes in a spray of white feathers. The color of her hair shifts, blue to snow-white, and the creep of paper across her cloak turns it to featureless black, blotting out Akatsuki’s clouds. “Pay attention,” she tells him.

Obito touches two fingers to his brow, acknowledging the order. “I’ll pull you out the minute you get overwhelmed,” he promises, and Konan nods. Reaches out, touching his shoulder, and Obito lets out a breath, leaning in. They rest masked foreheads together, just for a moment, and Obito closes his eyes, glad to simply feel the warmth of her so close.

“Good luck,” he says.

“I'm going to make Konoha _burn_,” Konan returns, soft, like it’s a secret, and Obito laughs raggedly.

“First Konoha, then Kumo,” he says. “And after them, Kiri.”

Konan's fingers touch the hidden line of his jaw, a light brush. “We’ll stop it,” she says. “We’ll stop _everything_.”

Obito will never, ever regret the fact that Konan found out his secret, confronted him, cursed him until he listened to her. They killed Zetsu together, and with that shared blood on their hands, they can do _anything_.

“It has to be easier than capturing Orochimaru,” he jokes, and Konan snorts, amused.

She pulls back, letting her hand drop, and says, “We’re not nearly as stupid now. That helps.”

Obito laughs, and the weight of what they're doing is still there, but—bearable. Easier to handle, now, and he’s grateful for it. “It would be hard to go back to being that stupid.”

They're used to fighting with each other now, too. They fit together better, move more like two parts of a team instead of broken pieces trying not to let their jagged edges scrape. Obito's gotten better at control, and Konan's gotten better at precision, and there’s not a damn thing that can stand in their way now.

Obito thinks, with a flicker of humor, what Nagato would say if he knew Konan was planning to fight the Sandaime Hokage by herself. Even now, he’s sure the fireworks would be spectacular.

“Be careful, Karin,” Obito says, taking one more look at the little girl. Knowing that they brought her would absolutely trigger an aneurism in Nagato, but she’s the most powerful sensor Obito has ever encountered, and they need her. “You know how to get our attention if you need us?”

Karin nods determinedly, and the rapid flicker-flare of her chakra rising is soft enough to go unnoticed by the village below, but something Obito and Konan both know to look for. “I’ll tell you if he moves,” she says. “There’s only two people around him now.”

There’s no better time for this, then. Obito nods, glances at Konan, and she smiles back, a thin, dangerous line.

“Armor tight?” she asks, even as paper whirls out, flattening into wide white wings that barely fit between the trees.

A splatter of raindrops heralds the downpour’s start, and Obito raises his face to it, the drumming drops sliding around the edges of his mask as the rain soaks the world. “Reserves good?” he retorts, because learning to work together hasn’t always gone well. They're both competitive people, and it’s possible they're bad at knowing when to acknowledge limits.

In answer, Konan's wings sweep down, and in half an instant she’s soaring upwards, an angel against the storm, and Obito watches as she passes over the wall, over the village, and starts to descend. It’s enough of a signal, and he steps forward, the chakra-eating burn of the Mangekyō Sharingan rising. The world twists, and he steps into Kamui, steps out the other side and right into the familiar halls of the Academy.

It’s late afternoon, sliding towards nightfall. The absence of people is to be expected, but Obito still minds his steps, keeping carefully to the shadows as he slips through the halls. From this close, the bonfire of Naruto's chakra is all but tangible, even without the dark undertone of the Kyuubi’s familiar power. It makes something like furious guilt curl in Obito's chest, thick enough to strangle him, but he pushes past it, sets it aside; what he’s doing now won't fix the lives he’s ruined or the mistakes he’s made, might even help make things worse, but—at the very least Naruto won't have to suffer anymore. At the very least Obito can undo what was done to him.

He can't pinpoint the other chakra signature, one of the people who’s supposed to be with Naruto. One is clear, but the other Obito can't pick out. which means, of course, that it’s probably an ANBU set to watch Naruto, and Obito has one guess as to which.

It’s a risk to use Kamui this close; Obito has been careful of the bleed-through, every time since that first instant, and it’s happened again when he and Kakashi are too close, both using chakra. And while Obito hasn’t seen it happen with Kakashi sharing his eye, only the other way around, he’s not confident that it _couldn’t_, and that’s enough to make him careful. he’s not acting as Madara anymore, not trying to hide quite so thoroughly, but in this case, if he leaves any clues, it will put Konoha one step closer to finding out who’s kidnapping the jinchuuriki, and Obito won't risk that, either.

Somewhere ahead, over the rising beat of the rain, he can hear voices. Pauses, head tilting, to catch the sound, and marks the classroom the speakers are in. One loud, aggravated, the other younger and pitched in a definite whine, Obito thinks, and tries to remember the layout of the classroom. It’s all faded and gone fuzzy around the edges, but—he can remember the seats, marching down, and the blackboard in the front. It sounds like the speakers are closer to the front, in a straight line from the door, and Obito lets out a low breath of satisfaction. They're making it easy for him.

Somewhere in the distance, outside the quiet Academy, there's a sudden, ringing explosion that practically shakes the building.

Konan, Obito thinks, amused. She’s only subtle when she wants to be, after all. Carefully, he tucks himself back into the shadows of a doorway, letting the rain-dim light hide him as shadows pass outside at a run, shouts rising. Hopefully, Konan can draw all of the most powerful jounin away, including the Hokage, and keep them occupied for long enough that Obito can get away. Their plan has room for improvisation, but Obito doesn’t want to have to try for something spur-of-the-moment, not when so much is riding on this first attack.

A two-person war, he thinks, viciously amused. But between him and Konan, they're going to bring all the big villages to their knees and stop the brewing world war.

The timing here has to be perfect, and he and Konan went over the plan a thousand times, worked it out. Just long enough for her attack to draw attention, not long enough to cut out the element of surprise from Obito's, and he counts down the last seven seconds even as he gathers himself, eyes on the door. Braces, ready, and—

One hard shove slides the door open with a crash, and before the ANBU can even drop from the ceiling Obito is halfway across the room. Naruto is at the frontmost desk, pouting over an open textbook, while his teacher looms over him, red-faced and a little wild-eyed. There’s an unused smoke bomb tag on the floor between them, probably the result of some interrupted prank, but it’s the perfect opportunity. Obito snags it as he passes, rises, throws it, and the snap of his chakra triggers it with a bang. Thick white smoke billows through the room, the whirl of it completely hiding everything, but Obito was trained by Madara to fight blind, has the Sharingan and its perfect recollection of the room’s layout. He leaps the closest desk, feels the lash of power close to him, and lashes out. The heel of his foot catches the ANBU as he appears out of the smoke, and he stumbles back, drops, sweeps a foot out.

In no mood to play games, Obito brings a hand up, ring of fingers in front of his mouth, and lets the flames surge.

As the ANBU reels back, Obito turns, lunges. Naruto is just scrambling up, eyes wide, but he’s only made himself an easier target. Obito snatches him up, boosts him over his shoulder, and shoves the teacher out of the way. He dives for the window, one crackling burst of roots tearing the wall down to kindling, and in the gap the forest looms. Wet branches reach down, grasping fingers reaching for the ANBU as he follows doggedly, but they avoid Obito completely, part like a curtain as he races for the concealing darkness. On his shoulder, Naruto shouts, distressed, but Obito doesn’t pause even as he winces, scales a tree and kicks the ANBU's kunai wide.

The man in the Hound mask drops, slings himself around the branch and comes up on the other side, but Obito lets his kunai deflect off an armored bracer in a spray of sparks, then clenches his hand into a fist. A massive branch, as thick around as Obito's waist, hurtles upwards, catching Hound around the middle and slamming him back into a tree trunk. A gesture from Obito makes the trunk split, opening out like a mouth to swallow him, and Obito keeps moving.

From behind them, there’s a shout, alarmed and furious. Obito doesn’t glance back, but Naruto cries, “Iruka-sensei!” with pure terror, and Obito curses. Turns sharply, trying to mark the atmosphere of power surrounding Konan and watch for anyone approaching at the same time. He can't sense anyone, can't feel another threat as powerful as Hound anywhere close by, even as people start to converge on the Academy. There’s at least one of the Hokage's guards, at least one jounin as well, but they're too slow, too far behind.

This might actually work.

Dodging left, Obito makes another sharp turn, and one scrawny Academy teacher on his tail isn't a risk, is hardly a threat, but it’s aggravating. Too close and he might see Kamui's effect, which Kakashi will recognize. Better to lose him now, and Obito drops, leaps a fallen tree and slides down a steep slope, containing Naruto's thrashing. Not nearly as bad as trying to contain Orochimaru, after all, and he and Konan did that just a month ago. He’s familiar with Konoha's forests, too, in more ways than just a connection to the trees; he spent too much time here as a child, avoiding having to return to the Uchiha compound. There's a stream up ahead, another cliff, and—

A kunai with an explosive tag flashes over his shoulder, and Obito curses. Stops short, falling back and ducking down, and a hand flashes at his head. He slides under it, knocks aside the Academy-standard taijutsu blow with ease, and meets wide dark eyes, full of fear and fury in equal measure.

“Give me _back my student_!” the teacher shouts, and a Suiton jutsu tries to sweep Obito off his feet.

“Iruka-sensei!” Naruto shouts, reaching for him, but Obito hefts him down, putting him under one arm, and lashes out. Two steps forward, turn, a sidestep to put him right inside the teacher’s guard, and he slams an elbow back, sharp and vicious. It catches the younger man in the chest, throws him off his feet with a breathless cry, and he hits the ground hard. Obito doesn’t pause, not confident that his Mokuton trap will hold Kakashi forever and not willing to draw things out into an all-out fight with his former teammate; turning, he picks up a run again, and—

There's a crackle, a surge. Golden light blooms right in front of him, close enough that Obito almost crashes into it before he can jerk back and catch his balance. He turns, but the wall of light stretches in an unbroken ring around them, connected by seals stuck to the closest trees, and Obito pauses. Looks between them, and remembers the kunai, the explosion. Perfect cover for more kunai, sticking seals all around them.

Clever, unfortunately. Eyeing the dome that passes over their heads, the shimmer that says it stretches under their feet, he turns.

The teacher is just pulling himself to his feet, looking grimly satisfied. “Give him back,” he says dangerously, even with one hand pressed against what are probably bruised ribs. “I won't let you kidnap one of my students!”

“Even this one?” Obito asks, pointed, and tips his head. Watches the teacher falter, something flickering over his face, and smiles bitterly to himself. That’s what he thought. “I'm taking the Kyuubi out of the village, to a place where he can never hurt anyone again. Whoever you lost, I'm going to make sure no one else can feel that same grief.” Grief he caused, twisted up in a madman’s vision, but—he won't say that. Konan knows, and she’s the only one who matters.

For a moment, Obito thinks it’s going to work. The teacher is hesitating, looking pained, and—

“Iruka-sensei!” Naruto cries, struggles redoubling even as the desperation on his face takes on an edge of hopelessness. “Iruka-sensei, _help me_!”

And, as Iruka stares at Naruto, Obito can almost see the change. His eyes widen, then narrow, and his expression turns to steel. He takes a breath, lifting his chin as his shoulders set, and tells Obito like a dare, “Even if you kill me, the barrier won't disappear. It’s self-sustaining.”

Obito can see that. He casts an unimpressed glance over the seals, ignoring the small fists beating at his armored chest. “Even if it holds me, you’ll still be dead,” he points out. “Would you really die for the Kyuubi?”

“No!” Iruka snaps. “But I’d die for Naruto!”

Naruto stops short, staring at his teacher. Swallows, like he’s about to cry, and reaches out, and Iruka reaches back, taking a step closer. Obito retreats, one precise step, and glances over his shoulder. There's a blur approaching, just visible through the glow of the barrier, but the mask is familiar. Kakashi, Hound, and Obito can't feel the panicked lash of his chakra but he can imagine it all too well. Kakashi doesn’t deal with threats to his people very well. Kakashi doesn’t deal with _anything_ emotional well.

Through the barrier, there’s no way to tell how Konan is doing, if she needs help, if she’s in trouble. Obito casts a glance up at the sky, at the rain, and then lets his gaze fall to Iruka again. There's no time for this. He has things to do, and people who need him.

It would be so easy to kill him and leave his body, but…Obito has already killed enough people in front of Naruto, even if the boy can't remember.

“Fine,” he says, and Naruto shouts in a panic, even as a rush of Raiton flares beyond the barrier. He takes a step forward, making Iruka recoil with fear on his face, and lunges. A kunai flashes at his face, then a seal is hurled down between them, but a smoke bomb isn't anywhere close enough to save Iruka. Obito flips up and over him, lands lightly, and lashes out. the metal on his reinforced gloves catches Iruka in the temple, and he goes boneless in an instant, crumpling to the ground.

Naruto shrieks, lashing out with twice as much fury, but Obito ignores him, a touch of chakra-enhanced strength enough to keep him steady. Leaning down, he picks Iruka up by the collar, and growls, “Stop it, or I’ll drop him.”

Naruto freezes, looking panicked. “Drop him _where_?” he demands. “Off a cliff? In a river? Why are you going to hurt Iruka-sensei?”

Lightning crashes against the barrier, and in the fading wreath of light, Obito looks at Kakashi. Meets his panicked stare, and hefts Iruka up, tossing him over his shoulder. “I won't,” he tells Naruto. “I’ll even let you take care of him. But you have to come with me, and not fight.”

Naruto looks from him to Iruka, fists clenching. “Okay,” he says desperately. “Okay, just don’t actually kill him!”

“Deal,” Obito says shortly, and triggers the start of a shunshin, lets the swirling wind rise. Kakashi tenses, calling up another Chidori even as he staggers, but Obito thickens the blur, lets the jutsu crest, and steps sideways just as it sweeps out. Vanishes into Kamui, making it look like he used an impossible shunshin to escape, and steps out again on the hillside, right beside Karin.

“Konan?” he asks.

Karin flicks a startled look at Iruka, then one at Naruto, and pulls Obito's cloak more tightly around herself. “She’s okay,” she reports, and points towards a corner of the village where the air has turned white, like snow. “The Hokage turned up, but she’s still just angry, not scared.”

“Good,” Obito says grimly, and tips his head. “Come on, I'm taking you back.”

Karin hesitates, glancing back at the village. “You're going to come get Konan, right?” she asks.

Obito smiles. “Of course,” he says, and lets Naruto slide to his feet. “Uzumaki Karin, meet Uzumaki Naruto.”

There's a moment of perfect shock on two parts, and then Naruto's head snaps up. “_Uzumaki_?” he demands, and shoves a finger at Karin. “She’s using my name!”

“Because it’s my name too!” Karin snaps, thrusting her glasses up her nose. “I'm an Uzumaki, and my mom was an Uzumaki, and you can be one too but you're not the only one!”

Naruto's expression slides into something bewildered, overwhelmed, and Obito snorts. He puts a hand on Naruto's shoulder, lets Kamui rise and steady and fall, and puts all four of them down in the nicest of the guest rooms in Ame’s tallest tower. “Work it out,” he tells them, amused, and dumps Iruka on the closest bed. “Karin, I’ll be back in a minute. Stab the man if he tries to use you as a hostage.”

“Right in the kidney,” Karin says fiercely, because she’s been spending far too much time around Konan and Obito both.

Naruto's mouth drops open, and he splutters in outrage. “You can't stab Iruka-sensei!” he protests. “Even if you're an Uzumaki too!”

“I can stab anyone,” Karin retorts, bristling. “I have to keep myself safe no matter what, and I won't let anyone use me, but if they want to I can do whatever I want to them, because that’s _bad_.”

Even as Naruto's expression twists into deep confusion, Obito steps back. He and Karin will work it out, he’s sure, but he has more pressing things to deal with.

A single step puts him back in Konoha, right in the middle of a snowstorm.

Instantly, Obito moves, dodging around one of Konan's clones and grabbing for the closest weapon at hand. It’s a staff, wrenched from Kamui, and he swings it hard at the skull of one of the Hokage's guards. The man leaps over it, spits a senbon right at Obito's mask, but Obito phases through it, lunges. Brown eyes go wide, half a second before Obito throws him through the window of the closest shop in a shower of glass.

“Genma!” a man cries, familiar in a vague way that means Obito probably went to the Academy with him once. Quite the reunion, he thinks ruefully, and lets the black sword slice right through him before a half-shift out of Kamui pulls him back to tangibility. Thrusting out a hand, he drags out the roots of every nearby tree, buries the guard and every nearby shinobi in them, and looks up.

Konan is hovering, wings outspread, and the Hokage is on the rooftop in front of her, holding his bō staff. Braced, ready to fight, but his eyes are narrowed.

“All I want,” Konan says into the quiet that’s spreading as the rest of the shinobi struggle beneath the roots, “is Danzō.”

The Hokage meets her stare, even and steady. “I won't hand over one of Konoha's councilors to an enemy,” he says.

With a snort, Obito judges the distance up, then leaps, pushes off the closest wall, swings up onto a window ledge, and jumps up to the edge of the roof the Hokage is occupying. He lands in a crouch, giving Konan a silent salute, and she smiles coldly.

“I have my hostage,” she says, and as alarm flares in Sarutobi's eyes, she raises a hand. “Reconsider, and I might give him back in one piece.”

The whirling storm of paper blocks the rain, it’s so thick, and Obito lets Kamui grab them both, lands them lightly in his dimension, and pushes upright, hauling his mask off. Konan touches down beside him, wings sliding back over her skin, and raises a brow at him.

“No problems?” she asks.

Obito grimaces. “One,” he says. “The teacher caught me in a barrier, so I took him too.”

Konan's expression smooths out, and her shrug is unconcerned. “Then he can take care of the jinchuuriki,” she says. Pauses, tilting her head, and hums. “It might be easier to take someone from each village to do that, at least for the younger jinchuuriki.”

“More chance they could try and escape,” Obito points out, dropping them back on their floor of the tower. Outside, it’s raining even harder than it was in Konoha, lashing against the wide windows, but from this high up it feels different. Cleaner, somehow, Obito thinks.

Of course, against Konoha's rot, most everything is cleaner.

“That’s a risk with the older ones regardless,” Konan points out, and her mask fades back into her skin, her disguise dropping away. She resettles her Akatsuki cloak, brushes her hair back, and walks to the window, looking out over the dark steel and glowing neon of the village below.

Obito just shrugs, following one step behind her and stopping there, steady at her shoulder. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he says, and means it.

Konan doesn’t look back at him, but he can see the curve of her small, satisfied smile reflected in the window. “You will, won't you?” she muses, but it’s rhetorical; they both already know it’s the truth.

Obito gives her a wry, crooked smile in return. “I don’t betray Madara and Zetsu for just anyone,” he reminds her.

Konan's fingers catch his, a gentle touch that vanishes a moment later. “And I don’t betray Nagato for anyone, either.”

Hers was a lesser betrayal, Obito thinks. Nagato is still alive, still perfectly well, and even seems content to leave things in Konan's hands. Kisame has helped with that, at least; he smoothed over whatever rough edges there were in the aftermath of Konan's near-coup, and now the air between Nagato and Konan is easier than Obito has ever seen it before. Less resentment, on Nagato’s part. Less guilt on Konan's, too.

With a scrape of metal on wood, Konan lifts something from the closest table, weighs it in her hand for a moment. Turns, offering it to Obito, and the look in her eyes is halfway between a challenge and expectation.

Without hesitation, Obito takes the hitai-ate from her, ties it around his brow once again. Lets the rain-marks carved into the metal prove what they both already know, and smiles at her, crooked but warm.

“Headwoman,” he says, and Konan looks back out at Ame, back out at the rain.

“The storm’s getting worse,” she says.


	2. Chapter 2

“What?” Iruka says helplessly. 

Naruto, nose to nose with a red-haired little girl about a year older, levels a finger at her and says loudly—too loudly for the ache in Iruka’s head—“Iruka-sensei, she says that I used to have a village!”

Iruka blinks, even as the girl goes red-faced. “I did not!” she yells. “I said the _Uzumaki_ had a village and it was called Uzushio, and that’s where my mom is from! Because she’s an Uzumaki too!”

_Oh,_ Iruka thinks, a little dazed, and lists forward to rub a hand over his face. He’s still mostly trying to process the fact that he’s not dead. 

“Iruka-sensei?” Naruto asks worriedly, and there's a tentative touch on his arm. “Aer you okay?”

_Tentative_ isn't a word Iruka ever ascribes to Naruto, but—Iruka’s never really acted friendly before, has he? Has thought about it, considered taking Naruto for ramen, for offering a few kind words, but Iruka is bad at kind. Especially when he’s scared, and—the idea of the Kyuubi is always so close, with Naruto. It’s always so easy to remember the monster that killed his parents, trapped inside the body of a little boy who’s far, far too much like Iruka remembers himself being. 

But. Iruka made a choice, in the forest, and even if it’s hard he raises his head, smiles at Naruto. Six years old, _kidnapped,_ and he’s still worried about Iruka. That’s not the demon fox. Iruka is sure of it. 

“I'm okay, Naruto,” he offers. “My head just hurts a little.”

Naruto's expression shifts to mulish. “That guy hit you really hard!” he says. “He’s a jerk and I hate him!”

_Good,_ Iruka thinks with some relief, though he doesn’t say as much. Better for Naruto to feel hostility than for him to attach himself to his abductor. That happens sometime, especially with children, and Naruto is already harshly treated in Konoha. 

“We’ll be okay,” he says soothingly, running a hand over Naruto's hair, and aims a smile at the little girl. “I'm Umino Iruka. Are you a prisoner here as well?”

The girl scoffs, shoving her glasses up her nose. “You're the one who stopped them from getting Naruto,” she says cannily, and that stare is assessing in a way that’s almost startling. “With the barrier.”

Iruka blinks. “Naruto told you?” he asks, glancing over, but Naruto is already shaking his head fiercely. 

“I saw it,” the girl retorts. “I told the Headwoman and her commander where Naruto was, and how to get to him.”

Cold threads its way through Iruka’s veins, and he wraps an arm around Naruto, pulling him back into his side as he leans away from the girl. “Why?” he asks helplessly. “Why would you—we’ve never hurt you! Kidnapping is _wrong!”_

The look that gets him is the closest thing to pitying he’s ever seen from a seven-year-old. “Kidnapping is only wrong if you don’t get away with it,” she says. “And we got away with it. It’s like stabbing.”

Iruka’s mouth drops open, and he splutters over a response for a moment. Before he can come up with one, though, there’s a light rap that echoes through the room, then a click. The door in the far part of the room opens, admitting a slim woman with red hair and a shawl draped over her shoulders. Iruka takes one look at her and freezes, because every inch of skin he can see on her is covered with bite marks, deep and scarred. Every shinobi has their collection of scars, but—

Not like that, Iruka thinks, horrified. 

The little girl, though, brightens immediately. “Mom!” she says happily, and runs to her, throwing herself against the woman’s legs.

“There you are, Karin,” her mother says with a smile, wrapping an arm around her. “Did you finish your mission?”

Karin nods, looking self-satisfied, and points at Iruka and Naruto. “We got them!” she says.

Her mother chuckles, quiet but warm. “With your help, I'm not surprised,” she says, and straightens. Her smile cools slightly when it lands on Iruka, but she approaches anyway, steps brisk. “Were you injured?” she asks. 

Iruka eyes her warily, tugging Naruto slightly behind him. “A concussion,” he says, because he knows all the signs, and besides, it’s better to overstate an injury and use the edge to take a captor by surprise. Iruka _teaches_ the class on escape tactics. He’s not about to fail to use them. 

The woman rolls her eyes a little, but her hand glows green as she presses it to Iruka’s skull. “I'm Uzumaki Komari,” she says, “and you're currently in Amegakure.”

_Ame?_ That’s—that’s _days_ of travel from Konoha, and Iruka’s breath tangles in his throat. “Ame?” he croaks.

But in the same moment, Naruto scrambles right over him. “You're an Uzumaki too?” he asks loudly. 

Karin makes a sound of irritation. “Well, if _I'm_ an Uzumaki, of course my mom if going to be too!” she snaps. 

“Karin,” Komari chides, though her tone is kind. She smiles at Naruto, magnitudes warmer than what she offered Iruka, and says, “Yes, I'm an Uzumaki. You must be Kushina's son.”

Naruto freezes, perfectly, impossibly still. Iruka can't even tell if he’s breathing. “Kushina?” he asks, and his voice wobbles. 

Komari’s smile takes on a sad slant, and she takes a seat on the bed on Naruto's other side, not commenting when Iruka twitches away. “Yes,” she confirms, and touches Naruto's cheek, looking a little wistful. “I knew her back in Uzushio, before the village was destroyed. They sent her to Konoha, to be the Kyuubi jinchuuriki after Mito-sama, just like you did after she died.”

“The what?” Naruto asks, but he sounds like he’s going to cry. 

Komari stills, eyes widening. She stares at Naruto for a moment, then turns her gaze on Iruka, and there’s fire building. “What?” she asks, and her voice is a whip-crack in the quiet room. “He doesn’t _know?”_

Iruka grimaces, ducking his head. “It’s a _law._ That and his parents, we can't say anything,” he protests, and pretends his chest doesn’t ache when Naruto snaps his head around to stare at him with betrayed surprise. 

“It’s _stupid,”_ Komari says precisely, and rises. “Naruto, I’ll be back soon,” she says, “and I’ll get someone to answer your questions. Karin, let’s go.”

Karin scrambles to follow the flare of her mother’s shawl out the door, not even bothering to look back, and the click of the door locking again is all too loud. 

Iruka rubs a hand over the scar on his nose, and very carefully doesn’t look at Naruto. 

“Iruka-sensei?” Naruto ask, and his voice cracks. “You knew I had a _mom?”_

_Everyone has a mom_, Iruka almost says, but stops himself. That's cruel, and entirely unhelpful. Takes a breath, then looks up, and gives Naruto a wan smile. “I'm not _allowed_ to tell you, Naruto,” he says. “Hokage's orders.”

“Jiji knows too?” Naruto protests, wounded. His hands fist in Iruka’s shirt, and he pauses, then asks, pained, “Does _everyone_ know? Is that—is that why everyone hates me? Because Kushina was my mom?”

Iruka opens his mouth, realizes he _can't_ answer, and slowly shuts it. Sighs, loud and aggrieved, and buries his face in his hands. “Naruto, I _can't say anything,_” he pleads. “I—the Hokage can have me executed if I do, or thrown in prison at _best.”_

Naruto's eyes widen, and he looks torn. “Jiji wouldn’t,” he says, but it’s hesitant, like he doesn’t entirely believe that himself. 

Sarutobi is fond of Iruka, knew his parents, was a friendly grandfather figure when he was growing up an orphan. Even with all of those facts, though, Iruka has no doubt at all that he’ll bring every bit of punishment to bear on anyone who breaks the order of silence about Naruto's parentage and his status as a jinchuuriki. Rightfully, maybe, because he’s Konoha's jinchuuriki and the son of its Hokage, but—

(How right could it possibly be, Iruka wonders, with Naruto trembling beside him, to keep the knowledge of his dead family from a boy who’s never known any connection to the village at all? Iruka has never been good at looking at things from a mercenary standpoint, but—surely it’s _logical,_ to want to tie Naruto to Konoha. And what would do that better than knowing he was the son of the Yondaime?)

“The Sandaime would do anything to protect you, Naruto,” Iruka says, and believes it. That little thread of unease doesn’t matter. 

But Naruto pulls away, hiccupping like he’s containing a sob, and says loudly, “Iruka-sensei, you should sleep.” Then, deliberately, he scurries over to a doorway, ducks into the other room, and Iruka’s been a teacher long enough to recognize a signal like that. More than that, he _knows_ that response, has used it himself. Naruto wants to be alone. He wants to stew, and think about things, and he doesn’t want comfort.   
Iruka could use a little right now, though. 

Dragging himself to his feet, he grimaces at the faint, empty ache in his head, even though Komari took care of most of the concussion. Which was…honestly more care than Iruka would have expected, given that he thought he’d die when he threw up his barrier. All the many parts of waking up here have been strange, up to and including the waking up part. The strange nin in the forest could have slit his throat, done _anything_ when he got behind Iruka, but he hadn’t. 

Iruka had just been attempting to buy time. He’d thought, in a mad, desperate rush, that if he gave ANBU enough time to get to them, they could get the barrier down, retrieve Naruto, deal with the intruder. Hound alone wasn’t enough, but a whole squad of ANBU would have managed well enough. And—most desperate shinobi, in the middle of a kidnapping attempt, would have killed Iruka without hesitation, out of frustration if nothing else. The fact that he was just knocked out is…bewildering, in light of that. There was nothing to be gained by leaving Iruka alive. 

But the shinobi had. Brought them across days of travel, _kept_ Iruka alive, left him in a fancy room with Naruto instead of locked away in a cell as leverage, sent a medic, left one of their own children in the room despite the fact that she could have been taken hostage. It doesn’t make _sense._

They’re most definitely in Ame, though.

Iruka braces a hand against the window, staring down with dismay rising. The buildings around them are lower, but rise in sharp spires of metal and glass, blurred by the rain. The streets below glow brightly despite the muting storm, and thick pipes race up the sides of every building Iruka can see, like frozen waterfalls of steel. It’s everything Konoha isn’t, and he curls his fingers against the cold glass, trying to remind himself to breathe. 

Naruto was kidnapped. _They_ were kidnapped, taken by an enemy village for unknown ends, and even if they manage to get out of the tower they’re in, there’s a whole village full of shinobi out there, familiar with the territory, with techniques and methods tailored to their home country. Escape feels impossible, overwhelming, and Iruka closes his eyes, grits his teeth. He doesn’t know what these bastards want, but—

If they’ve taken Naruto, it’s easy to assume they’re after the Kyuubi. And that fact does more than anything else to spark fear in Iruka’s chest, rising like a wildfire to eat away at him regardless of the rain outside.

  
Ame runs like a well-oiled war machine, especially with Konan at the helm. Obito trails her down through the drenched-dark streets, two paces behind with a gunbai on his back, and watches as she rouses awe with a simple appearance, devotion with a word. Just acting, she always says; just mimicking what Yahiko did, but—

The people love her, and they follow her the way they did Yahiko's puppet body when Nagato had him marching around the village. More devoutly, even; for all that she considers herself a despot, the people call her an angel, heaven-sent to bring them peace. 

Konan laughed herself sick the first time she heard, hunched over Obito's shoulder as she shook. Obito had held her through it, a bare month after she took control, while all the wounds were still fresh and Nagato was still a silent, hostile shadow haunting the rooms of the tower. It was while everything was still too new, too awkward for any real comfort to be offered, but—

The vulnerability had been startling. Like Rin, crying for the first time that he’d ever seen when her sister died in the war, seeing Konan break down felt like a switch being tripped, a river being forded. Protect, something in Obito's brain had said, and he’s never forgotten. 

Not that Konan needs protection here, in the heart of Ame. The village would destroy anyone who tried to hurt her before Obito could even start to move. 

“Is your guest awake?” Konan asks over her shoulder, pausing to inspect an older woman’s hand-painted silks. The woman bows quickly, murmuring greetings, and Konan smiles and asks after her grandchildren. Spends a moment lingering, then moves on, and Obito follows, keeping a portion of his attention on the shadows around them. 

“Not when I left,” he answers. “Karin volunteered to stay with the boy, though, so she’s keeping him company.”

A hint of amusement flickers across Konan's face. “Did she?” she asks, and inclines her head to a shinobi in uniform. The woman bows back, waiting until Konan and Obito have both passed to straighten and continue on. 

Obito snorts. “Less _volunteered,”_ he allows, “and more _she was arguing too loudly to let me drag her away_. I assume she’s having fun.”

Konan's chuckle is quiet, but the smile lingers in her eyes as she turns down another street, making for the narrow, listing building at the end. There's a wide, circular sunken circle in front of it, with steps leading down into the building’s basement, and Konan descends with a sweep of her dark cloak. Obito paces her, then passes her, stepping ahead of her to rap his knuckles against a heavy metal door. 

There’s a long pause, then the rattle of a bolt being thrown, a loud creak. One brown eye peers out of the gap, then narrows, and the door is hauled the rest of the way open. 

“You,” Sasori says, sounding unimpressed. “Here to bother me?”

“I called a meeting,” Konan returns placidly, and smirks faintly at the offense that crosses Sasori’s face. “If I’d told you, you would have disappeared into your workshop.”

“My work is consuming,” Sasori says stiffly, but steps back to let them through. “As you would know, if you bothered to review it.”

“I review everything,” Konan returns coolly, but doesn’t pause. She sweeps past him, head up, shoulders squared, and nods to the other figure approaching. “Yashamaru.”

Yashamaru smiles back, quick but warm, but all he says is, “Are we ready, then?”

Konan inclines her head, passing Sasori’s floor and taking the stairs down. Obito slides behind her, watchful, but there’s no sound on the steps, no enemies hiding in the shadows. There’s less threat now than there will be in a month’s time, but Obito feels it’s best to train himself to watch for such things now, rather than putting Konan’s life at risk with a sudden learning curve. 

“Come on,” Yashamaru says, and Obito doesn’t look back but he can hear their steps following. “It won’t take long, Sasori.”

Sasori makes a sound of disgust, even as he lets Yashamaru steer him down into the tunnels beneath the house. “I have a meeting with one of my spies in two hours,” he snaps. 

“This won’t take long,” Konan says, over the start of Yashamaru’s reassurance. Her voice is crisp, and the sound of it echoes through the wide cavern that opens out in front of them, tall black pillars marching in straight rows that vanish into the darkness. 

Obito shapes a hand sign, and all along the rows of columns torches flare, their light spreading out across the long room. The brilliance washes over a seated figure, and with a huff Kakuzu pushes to his feet, looking irritated. Beside him, the teenageboy who’s spent the last three months following him scrambles up as well, grinning delightedly. 

“It’s a full meeting!” he crows. “Are we starting a war now?”

Konan smiles faintly. “Hello, Hidan,” she says, amused, and lifts her gaze. “Kakuzu.”

Kakuzu folds his arms across his chest, but inclines his head in return. “Kisame’s on his way,” he says shortly. “He got held up with one of the patrols.”

Obito frowns at that, slanting a glance at Konan to look for direction, but she doesn’t move. Turns her head just slightly, then says, “He’s coming. It won’t be more than a minute.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Hidan demands loudly, and Kakuzu sighs, aggrieved, and puts a hand on his head to shove him down. 

“Shut up,” he says flatly. “It’s enough that she does know, so leave it alone.”

“Ow!” Hidan protests, and kicks Kakuzu in the shin. It has as much visible effect as kicking a centuries-old oak would. “I’m just _asking,_ you stupid old man!”

“Stop _yelling,”_ Kakuzu growls, and Obito hides his grin, slipping around behind Konan and Sasori to check the darkness around the edges of the room. The tunnel that leads out is a narrow, winding one, rising up in a steady slope, but it’s empty, and Obito can’t pick out any trace of chakra or sound from within it. He moves on instead, and when quiet footsteps catch his attention he pauses, one hand going to his gunbai until the first hum of immense, sharp-edged chakra reaches him. 

Kisame's huge form comes clear in the shadows, sword on his back, and he grins at Obito without hesitation. “Leader’s shadow,” he says. “All the way over here? How’s she going to get anything done without half of her arm?”

Obito can never quite tell whether Kisame means it as mocking or something more genuine, and he doesn’t want to find out. Frowning, he straightens, dropping his hand from his gunbai, and says, “You’re late.”

Kisame's grin takes on even more teeth. “That old pervert was trying to sneak across the lake,” he says, sounding entirely pleased with himself. “I left him playing tag with my summons.”

“Jiraiya?” A touch against Obito's elbow and Konan ghosts up beside him, her expression icy. “I hope that wasn’t the extent of your plan for dealing with him, Kisame.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Kisame rocks back on his heels. “Nagato's keeping an eye on him, and some of the other members, too. I’ll give them the minutes when we’re done.”

Konan's mouth tightens faintly, and worry flickers up through Obito's chest. He reaches out, touching her arm, and she doesn’t shift away, which is a bad sign. Still, she inclines her head precisely, turns on her heel and heads for the center of the room, where Kakuzu, Yashamaru, Sasori, and Hidan are still waiting. 

“Pakura? Guren?” she asks briskly. 

Yashamaru hesitates, gaze going to Sasori, but when the other Suna makes no move to answer he says quietly, “Pakura is one of those watching the Sannin. Guren is still on her mission. She hasn’t reported back yet, but there's no indication that anything has gone wrong.”

“Missions frequently take more time than anticipated,” Obito says quietly, and Konan lets out a quiet breath, accepting that. Guren is valuable, and beyond that, Konan has always seemed fond of her. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says steadily, and raises a hand. Understanding, Obito slips past her to lay the map out on the floor, and a quick sign brings it to life, mountains rising and lakes falling. Across the map, nine points of light kindle, each one growing a different shade, and across from Obito, Kakuzu stiffens. His eyes are on the sprawl of Ame, and the glowing crimson contained at its heart. 

“We have the Kyuubi,” Konan says, and that smile is small, secretly pleased. “The jinchuuriki resides in the tower right now. Given Obito's talents, capturing him was hardly a strain, and Konoha will be the hardest village to enter, given Kamui's constraints. I think we can safely move on with our plans.”

There's a moment of silence before Yashamaru takes a breath. “The boy is okay?” he asks quietly. 

“Unharmed,” Obito confirms, folding his arms over his chest and meeting Yashamaru’s eyes. “You can see him if you want. There's a Konoha nin with him, though, so stay on your guard.”

“A Konoha nin?” Kakuzu asks disgustedly. “You pick up a stray while you were on your mission?”

Pointedly, Konan raises a brow, gaze dropping to Hidan. The boy beams, even as Kakuzu scowls and subsides with a grumble, very deliberately looking away. Konan allows it, and there’s amusement in her voice when she answers, “A caretaker. Spending manpower on the jinchuuriki when they’ll be more comfortable with familiar faces is a waste. Our only business is with the bijuu.”

“And how is that coming?” Sasori asks dryly. “Have you managed any treaties yet? Sworn oaths? Pinky promises?”

“Not yet,” Obito says, and hesitates. Looks at Konan, to find her already looking back, and when she nods he lets out a careful breath. “The Kyuubi in particular isn't going to be fond of the Sharingan. I’ve used it to control him once before, and if I try to talk to him, he’s going to get…angry.”

“Is he gonna wreck the village?” Hidan asks, tugging hard on Kakuzu’s cloak. “Are we gonna stop him? Can I fight the bijuu?”

Kakuzu looks more tired than Obito has ever seen him. _“No,”_ he snaps, and shoves his head down again. “So you need space, and no one around.”

“A perimeter at least,” Sasori agrees, frowning thoughtfully. “East of the village. We can use one of the old battlefields from the war, and establish a barrier. Your Mokuton will be enough to contain the beast if it breaks loose?”

Obito grimaces, even as he tips one shoulder in a shrug. “In theory,” he says helplessly, and glances at Kakuzu. “Everything I'm working on is fourth hand information at best.”

Kakuzu takes a breath, looking entirely dissatisfied even as he nods. “I fought Hashirama,” he says. “I might be able to help.” Before Obito can open his mouth to thank him, though, he raises a hand. “Remember that I _lost,”_ he says waspishly. “He flattened me in a handful of minutes. It’s not like I remember a hell of a lot about his techniques.”

“Anything is better than nothing,” Obito says, unbothered. It’s probably more useful than capturing Danzō or Sarutobi and trying to wring answers out of them. There's that kid with Mokuton who was one of Orochimaru’s experiments, but—he’s in the same boat as Obito. And more than that, he’s close to Kakashi. Kidnapping Naruto for reasons that will eventually, probably be beneficial to Naruto himself Obito can justify. Taking someone else from Kakashi, after everything Obito has already taken from him, is too cruel, and Obito won't do it. 

Konan casts a glance over the group, then inclines her head. “We’ve captured Konoha's jinchuuriki,” she says. “I’d thought to go after Kumo's next, but both of them are currently in the village, and it’s too great a risk to take on both at once. Suna seems like a more reasonable target, under the circumstances.”

It irks at Obito, having to wait. Kumo is the other player here, the aggressor—A isn’t content with having been tricked by the Hyuuga, and there are whispers of war rising again. They make Obito’s skin itch, make him dark and sharp with fury, and all he wants is to tear through Kumo the way they did Konoha, leave ruin and rubble behind them, and retreat with Kumo’s precious jinchuuriki. 

Still. _Still._ There’s only so much he and the other Akatsuki members can do right now, and he’d much, much rather keep members in reserve, keep them a secret, an advantage, rather than putting everything out in the open just for one attack. Obito can be strategic, when he needs to be. 

Madara made damn sure of that. 

Sasori hums, tapping his fingers against his elbow as he considers the map. “Nii Yugito and Killer Bee both have a habit of wandering,” he says. “It will only be a matter of time before they depart the village again, and we can take them then. Until the opportunity presents itself, however, Suna’s jinchuuriki will be the most distantly guarded, and the most vulnerable.”

He doesn’t look at Yashamaru, but Yashamaru still swallows, wrapping his arms around himself. “I should be with you when you go to retrieve him,” he says, and his voice only wobbles a little. “I left him, but—he might still care enough to come if I ask.”

For a moment, Konan considers that, then inclines her head. “You and Obito will go,” she decides. “Take Pakura as well. Former Suna nin being involved will keep suspicion safely away from Ame. Tomorrow is the dark of the moon; move then.”

“Yes, Headwoman,” Obito murmurs, more for the look that Konan slants at him than anything. She touches his shoulder lightly, then glances at Sasori again. 

“Your spy ring is holding?” she asks. 

Sasori grunts, sounding dissatisfied. “Jiraiya has been picking away at my agents, but with Orochimaru’s capture I plan to utilize his spies as well, which will give us an advantage of numbers.”

Shifting, Kakuzu tips one shoulder, and adds, “The smaller villages are coming together. Tani and Shimo have started tightening their borders, and dissidents in Yu are getting more vocal. No idea if they’ll manage to sway people, but they’re adding to the unrest.”

“Good.” Konan’s eyes are darkly satisfied, her mouth a tight line. “Mobilize more agents in Kusa as well, and pull in whatever missing-nin you can find. Speed is important, but keep it quiet. I don’t want the Great Nations to think this is anything but a reaction to the brewing war.”

“I can help coordinate,” Obito offers, and when Sasori steps back, he pulls away from Konan’s side a pace, then pauses. Looks back at her to find her smiling, just a little, as she reaches out to touch the back of his hand. 

“Go,” she agrees. “I meant to ask Kakuzu to accompany me back to the tower anyway.”

Kakuzu makes a sound of agreement, his surly expression unmoving even as Hidan crows in cheerful excitement and bounces on his toes. “We get to be _bodyguards,_ old man!” he says, tugging on Kakuzu’s cloak. 

Kakuzu closes his eyes, looking like he’s containing the impulse for murder. Not that it will do much to Hidan. It definitely won’t be a deterrent, either; he seems to take great amounts of glee in shoving his head back on and going right back to clinging to Kakuzu. 

“Fine,” he says shortly, more to Hidan than Konan, and takes Obito’s place behind her as she starts towards the stairs. Obito stays beside Sasori in the glow of the torches, watching the hem of her cloak vanish around the corner, and then looks down. 

Yashamaru is watching him, something soft in his face, and when Obito meets his eyes, he smiles. 

“You make a good team,” he says. “To have captured the Kyuubi so easily.”

“We both want the same things,” Obito says, and it’s not a denial even if it could be taken as such. He shifts the map, the smaller villages rising up past the five biggest, and reminds himself to focus. Sasori needs him to put spies and shinobi into place, and getting something wrong could be disastrous at this point in the plan. “Kusa first?”

“Kusa first,” Sasori agrees, all barely-contained vicious glee, and leans down to show Obito where he needs to put their forces to best spread Akatsuki’s power.

Their sphere of influence is large, and growing larger every day. Obito has every confidence that soon, with Konan at the head and all of Akatsuki behind her, even villages like Kumo and Konoha won’t be able to stand against them. 


	3. Chapter 3

Night falls over the village with almost startling speed, descending as if carried by the pouring rain. It doesn’t leave the streets dark, though; there’s a neon glow to them, strange and jarring, like corridors of light far below.

Iruka stays away from the windows, unnerved by the sight in a way he can’t put into words, and spends his time exploring the rooms they’re being kept in. If they weren’t prisoners, he would think the place was luxurious, almost too fancy; it’s all high ceilings, stark glass, metal just softened by draping cloth and human touches. Since they _are_ prisoners, though, it’s unnerving in the same way as the village outside. Unnatural, obscene to Iruka’s Konoha-trained sensibilities, and all he wants is the softening lines of something natural. A tree, a plant, a spray of flowers, but if there are any within Ame’s limits, he can’t see them.

A shinobi with an Ame hitai-ate and a suspicious scowl brings them dinner sometime between nightfall and the storm getting heavier; she says nothing, hardly even looks at Naruto, and keeps one eye on Iruka the whole time she’s laying out the food, which makes Iruka feel mildly torn. On the one hand, he can count the number of times he’s been considered a serious threat and still be in the single digits. On the other, if they think he’s dangerous, Ame is going to be that much harder to escape.

While he’s occupied by feeling conflicted, Naruto slinks out of the other room, steals one of the trays, and sits down mulishly to eat it, though he doesn’t look at Iruka as he does.

For a long, long moment, Iruka stares at him. the fact that he hasn’t bolted back into the other room is a good sign, but—

He thinks, for a moment, about the Naruto he knows from class, the boy he’s seen all around the village with ANBU chasing him, with people yelling, with people _whispering_. None of the children interact with him, and the parents watch him with hostile eyes, and at least Iruka has Mizuki, had a handful of people who knew his parents and cared about him, even if there was no one who could take him in.

Naruto doesn’t even have that, and he’s always been aware, on some level, that Naruto must be lonely to act like he does, but the reality of just _how_ lonely settles on Iruka’s chest like some great weight, and he has to swallow hard around the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry, Naruto,” he says into the quiet hum of the rain outside. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your parents.”

There's a painful pause, as sharp as knives. Naruto pokes at something on his tray, scowling, and then looks up, and the anger is only just enough to cover the hurt underneath.

“Why didn’t jiji tell me, either?” he demands, loud. “Iruka-sensei, why didn’t _anyone_ tell me?”

Iruka thinks of Komari, the surge of anger when she realized Naruto didn’t even know _what_ a jinchuuriki was, and winces. “I don’t—” He stops, hands curling into fists, and—considers. He could say it. He could tell the Hokage that their captors were the ones to spill the information.

Except there’s little chance he won't be handed over to T&I the minute they make it back to Konoha, with someone at his shoulder to riffle through his mind and see what happened. Iruka _knows_ what the punishment for spilling the information about Konoha's jinchuuriki is—one of the teachers who worked with him last year said something a little too loud, a little too close to Naruto, and the Hokage had him taken away.

It’s easy to forget, sometimes, with how kind Sarutobi can be, but Kage are the absolute authority in their villages; they don’t need an excuse for their actions, and they're not required to show any sort of mercy.

“I’m sorry,” he finally settles on, helpless.

There's a long, long moment of silence, and then Naruto looks away. Blue eyes are accusing, even as they settle on the far window. “You _knew_,” he says, and Iruka winces.

“I did,” he says softly, because all the excuses in the world won't change that fact. Carefully, he eases himself down next to Naruto, then takes a breath and says, “I would have told you if I could have. I—even if you don’t believe anything else I say, Naruto, please believe that.”

Naruto's expression twists, but before he can say anything, there’s another quick knock at the door before it opens. Polite announcement, not a request for permission, Iruka thinks a little sourly; he and Naruto are definitely prisoners. Still, he shoves to his feet, putting himself in between Naruto and the door.

“You!” Naruto says, loud and accusing, and points aggressively.

The strange shinobi from the forest looks from Naruto to Iruka, the featureless porcelain mask as eerie in the lighted room as it was in the shadows. There’s only one eye-hole, and the eye behind it is black and cool, observant. The man stands in the doorway for a long moment, then takes a step into the room and lets the door fall shut behind him.

“Enjoying your meal?” he asks, and there’s a sardonic note to it that puts Iruka’s hackles up. He bristles, and the man is armed, armored like he’s about to go into a fight, but Iruka still considers attacking him for a moment.

“No!” Naruto says loudly. “I want ramen!”

Iruka winces, takes a step back so he blocks Naruto more completely. One thing to show defiance to a captor, but empty challenges are just going to get them hurt.

Except—

Except that, after a beat of silence, the strange nin snorts. “Ramen?” he asks, and tilts his head. “All right, then. Come on. There’s none in the tower, but I know a place.”

Naruto blinks, then gives a crow of success, scrambling around Iruka to get to the man. With a yelp of alarm, Iruka grabs him, boosting him up over his shoulder like a squirming sack of rice, and snaps, “Naruto, _no_! He _kidnapped_ you!”

“Aww,” Naruto says, plaintive. “But _Iruka-sensei_—”

“You can come too,” the man tells Iruka, sounding amused. “If that would help.” He turns, opening the door again and leaning out. “Pakura, got time?”

“Why?” That voice is suspicious, but mildly so, and a moment later a tall woman with green and orange hair steps into the opening. She’s wearing the same black cloak patterned with red clouds as the man, but she’s unmasked, and she’s wearing a hitai-ate with Suna's mark. 

Iruka takes one look at it and feels himself go cold. There’s a wide, deep slash cutting through the hourglass symbol, deliberate and precise. She’s a missing-nin.

“Because Naruto wants ramen,” the man says, and Pakura snorts.

“Does the headwoman know you’re circumventing her orders?” she asks, though the expression on her face is more amusement than anything.

_The headwoman_, Karin had said. _The headwoman and her commander_. Iruka is willing to bet that he’s in the presence of that same commander, and it makes him swallow, makes him stiffen just a little. The second in command of a village as large as Ame isn't going to be easily beaten, and Iruka hadn’t had a lot of hope, given their fight in the forest, but—

“The headwoman would be just fine with me taking them out,” the man retorts, “just as long as I have backup.”

Pakura makes a sound of amused acknowledgement, folding her arms over her chest. “All right,” she says. “I could use a meal. Especially if you're paying.”

The man inclines his head, then looks over at Iruka. “Well?” he asks.

“Iruka-sensei!” Naruto says, squirming. “Please? Can we go get ramen?”

Iruka swallows, looking between the two strange shinobi. He should take the opportunity to get a look at Ame’s layout. He should see if there’s any way they can escape, or any chance of getting out of the village if they do. But—

It feels so much more dangerous, that these two are willing to let him come along, that they don’t care about keeping him and Naruto contained in one small room. They're not worried about escape attempts, are absolutely certain they can stop them, and that’s alarming.

“All right,” he manages, and shifts Naruto, bracing him on his hip. “I’m coming, though.”

The man nods, like this is perfectly acceptable, and turns. “Machi’s?” he asks, directed at Pakura.

Pakura wrinkles her nose just a little. “Her broth is weak. Danji’s?”

“You only like Danji’s because she gives you free food,” the man accuses, but he doesn’t argue.

“I like her stand because she has _good_ food, regardless of whether it's free or not,” Pakura retorts, and sharp eyes settle on Iruka. She jerks her head, gesturing for him to precede her into the hall, and Iruka swallows but does so.

Beyond the room, the tower is all soaring metal walls and tall windows, glass streaked with rain. Lights burn along the wall, flickering faintly, and there's a faint, distant hum coming from beneath them that puts Iruka's teeth on edge. He forces himself to keep moving, though, and follows the strange man down a long, curving flight of stairs.

“Karin wanted to come back in the morning,” the man says into the quiet around their footsteps, and Iruka almost flinches at the reverberation of his deep voice in the stairwell. “If you don’t mind having company.”

Naruto perks up at that, wriggling, and Iruka has to grab for the railing to keep his balance on the steps. “Yeah!” Naruto crows. “Did you know she’s an Uzumaki too? She’s part of my clan!”

There's a pause, and then a sound of quiet amusement. “Yes,” the man says. “I know. There are several Uzumaki in Ame. I’ll see if they can come up and meet you soon.”

“_More_?” Naruto sounds dazed, and this time when he squirms Iruka gets the message and lets him down. The instant his feet touch the ground, though, Naruto bolts, and Iruka can’t quite catch his collar in time. He shouts, but Naruto is already grabbing for the strange shinobi’s cloak.

“Do I have a big clan?” he asks, tugging. “Is my clan a lot of people and a big village and a huge family?”

Iruka's chest aches, and he curls his hands into fists, the urge to call Naruto back to his side dying. He swallows, but can't look away.

The man looks down, blank mask ghostly in the shadows, and then comes to a stop on the closest landing. He doesn’t detangle Naruto from his cloak, but goes down on one knee, and reaches up. Gloved hands find the catch on the mask, and in a smooth motion he pulls it up and over his head.

Scars, is Iruka's first impression. Deep, aged scars, a missing eye on the opposite side covered by a patch, and a mouth that’s curved down by the scars pulling at it but is still somehow soft as he looks at Naruto.

“No,” he says quietly, and curls a hand around Naruto's shoulder. “Not anymore. The Uzumaki scattered after Uzushio fell, and only a handful made it to the other villages. Uzushio is gone, but…” He pauses, and the faintest shadow of a smile, rueful and crooked, crosses his face. “But you have _some _family, and that’s better than none, right?”

“Yeah!” Naruto says fiercely, and then frowns, looking conflicted. “Why’d you hurt Iruka-sensei?” he demands. “You know my clan, and you’re gonna feed me ramen, but you were _mean_!”

The man considers this for a long moment, not pulling away. Then, softly, he sighs. “I’m a bastard,” he says, and rises to his feet. “You should hate me, Naruto. Don’t forget that. But I wanted to take you somewhere I could tell you the truth.”

Naruto looks from the stranger to Iruka, glances back, and he’s frowning mulishly. “The truth?” he asks. “About my parents?”

“Partly,” the man acknowledges, and his eye flickers up, catching Iruka's gaze with a guarded, careful expression. “But I can also tell you why everyone hates you, and I can make sure that they stop.”

Naruto's eyes go as wide as saucers, and he jerks back like he’s been hit. “What?” he asks, and it wobbles.

The stranger turns his gaze away, starts waking again. The flare of his cloak across the stairs is like a crow’s wings, unfurling, spreading. “Come on,” he says. “You wanted ramen, right?”

Naruto hesitates, but after a second he runs after the man, catching the edge of his cloak and seeming to vanish into the whirl of it. The shinobi turns off, disappearing through a door that opens off the next landing, and then they’re both gone.

“Keep moving,” Pakura says from behind Iruka, and when he glances back at her, she’s watching him with a cool expression, faintly considering but mostly neutral.

“You don’t care that he’s kidnapping _children_?” Iruka asks, and he’s never dealt with bewilderment or uncertainty well; they’re curdling into rage in his stomach, and he wants to hit something, wants to punch the stranger and stuff an exploding tag down his shirt. Wants to take Naruto and run, run right back to Konoha and pretend that this never happened.

Pakura raises a brow at him, unimpressed. “We’re shinobi,” she says. “If you think kidnapping is the worst we’re capable of, you're either stupid or naïve.”

Iruka swallows, but when she keeps staring at him, he starts moving again, hurrying down the stairs and out into the open air. There’s a wide bridge that arcs from the tower they're in to the next, open to the elements. The rain is heavy, steady, and Iruka puts up a hand to shield his eyes as he follows Naruto and the stranger. They're waiting at the edge of the other tower, Naruto saying something with wide, sweeping gestures, the man with his head bent to listen like it’s something vastly important, and behind them, in the shelter of the doorway, is another woman, watching Iruka with cold eyes.

Iruka hesitates, not sure he should approach, but behind him, Pakura prods him in the back and he twitches, picking up his pace. Over the drumming beat of the rain, he catches Naruto's bright, “—can’t be as good as Ichiraku Ramen!”

“It’s probably not,” the man says. “I haven’t had Ichiraku in a long time, though, so I can't say.”

The new woman’s mouth curves, amusement rising, and she finally lets her eyes slip past Iruka. “Pakura,” she says, inclining her head.

“Guren,” Pakura returns, passing Iruka to greet her with clasped wrists. “You're back safe?”

Guren smiles tiredly. “I just gave the headwoman my report,” she says. “There was a landslide in one of the passes that delayed us, but the mission went well.”

“Yūkimaru will be glad you're home,” Pakura says, and the smile she gives Guren is almost a smirk. “Yukiryo too.”

Guren flushes faintly, knocking their shoulders together, but her expression is pleased. “It was a long trip,” she says, and tips her head, gaze flickering to the white mask the strange shinobi is carrying. “Tobi? Need an escort?”

The man glances up from Naruto, faintly surprised. “Weren’t you about to go home?” he asks.

She tips one shoulder in a shrug, her eyes going back to Iruka. “Yukiryo won't be home for another hour,” she says. “And Yūkimaru is on a C-rank. I have time.”

“All right,” Tobi agrees, faintly wary, but he straightens. “Naruto wanted ramen.”

“An Uzumaki indeed,” Guren says dryly, and Pakura snorts, tipping her head in agreement.

Iruka doesn’t quite know what to do with the easy camaraderie, the proof that these are just normal shinobi, not faceless monsters out to capture the Kyuubi. It twists in his stomach, unsettled and uncertain, and he looks over them again, trying to find any hints of the monsters that must be underneath. But—other than Pakura's slashed hitai-ate, Tobi's scars, they seem normal. Guren has an Ame hitai-ate tied around her bicep, and Tobi is missing one of the plates on the back of his gloves, and they could be shinobi from Konoha except for the glow of neon around them.

Swallowing, Iruka looks out, over the side of the bridge and the village beyond, and tries to remind himself to breathe. They're captors. Enemies. They knocked Iruka out, took Naruto, have kept them locked up, and there’s no way they want anything benign.

“Hey!” Naruto says loudly, pulling on Tobi's cloak. “You’re gonna tell me why people hate me, aren’t you?”

Guren raises a brow, surprised, but says nothing, and Tobi sighs. “I will,” he tells Naruto. “Let’s eat first, all right?”

“No wonder Kakuzu is playing shadow to the headwoman,” Guren says dryly, but when Tobi pushes the door of the other tower open she follows him through without hesitation. “I was wondering where her right hand was.”

“We’re planning for Suna,” Pakura says, and there’s a twist to her mouth that’s close to disgust. “Tomorrow.”

Guren pauses, glancing back at Pakura, and then falls back to walk beside her, brushing past Iruka. He eyes the kunai at her belt, but it seems like too much of a risk to grab for one when he doesn’t know their abilities. Not to mention Naruto is still right next to Tobi, and there’s no way Tobi wouldn’t just kill Iruka rather than give up Naruto.

“_You're_ going?” Guren asks, low, and Iruka tries to pretend he’s not listening as they start down another curving staircase, this one wider, grander. It’s a dizzying spiral down the tower’s center, with rooms opening off, but Tobi passes all of them without so much as glancing to the side.

“Yashamaru too,” Pakura says. “It makes sense. We’re both still listed as missing-nin.”

Guren hums. “I had wondered. It’s quite the fashion statement.”

“It’s necessary. O—Tobi is dropping me off near the walls later tonight, and I’ll scout.”

“Yashamaru can't—?”

“He’s too well-known, as the Kazekage's brother-in-law. If I wear a hood, I should be able to pass as just another jounin.”

Guren's silence is skeptical, but before she can say anything, Tobi turns off the staircase, stepping out through another narrow door and into the rain. Ground level, Iruka thinks, looking around—this is the street, so there must be other levels below them, either of the tower or the village itself.

“Whoa,” Naruto says, sounding awed, and stands up on his toes to look around more easily. “Where’s the trees? Why are there so many houses?”

“There aren’t that many,” Tobi says, lifting his face to the rain for a long moment, eye open. Then, slowly, he takes a breath and lifts a hand.

Startled, Iruka turns, following the direction of his stare, and stops short.

High above them, standing on the extended tongue of an oni-like face that bursts from the side of the building in a tangle of cables, there's a woman. From this distance, Iruka can't see many details, but the red clouds on her cloak are obvious, as are the wide, pure white wings growing from her shoulder blades. Against the darkness and neon lights of the village, she looks like an angel, strange and unsettling more than benign, and Iruka can almost feel the weight of her attention on them.

Then, slowly, she raises a hand in return, and the weight falls away.

There's a moment of silence, and then Pakura makes a quiet sound of amusement. “Just checking on you?” she asks Tobi.

Tobi makes a rude gesture at her. “She’s watching the whole village,” he counters.

“She’s not waving to anyone else, though,” Guren points out, and when Tobi scowls at her she laughs.

“Who’s that?” Naruto asks, and his voice is hushed as he stares upwards, eyes wide despite the pounding rain.

“The Headwoman of Ame,” Tobi says, and tips his head. “This way.”

“That’s a _shinobi_?” Naruto asks excitedly, but he scrambles to follow as Tobi heads down a narrow street that’s half-covered by a narrow roof. Iruka casts a wary look at it, not sure of its purpose, and is startled to find _people_ on it, moving above the street on what must be a walkway of metal. There are gaps down to the lower level, and now that Iruka's paying attention, he catches a kunoichi leap up from their street to the next one, cutting across and then out of sight. The wider streets don’t have it, but—it’s both cover for the people below and an easy path for shinobi, and in a place as tightly packed as Ame, Iruka can see the use of it.

“She’s the most powerful shinobi in the village,” Tobi says, and there's something in his voice that makes Iruka look at him, something fierce and soft all at once. And—

The look on his face as he stared up at her was something like faith, something like devotion. It makes a shiver slide down Iruka's spine, because fanaticism is always a dangerous thing, but never more so than in a strong shinobi.

“Is she the one that wanted you to catch me an’ Iruka-sensei?” Naruto asks, looking like he doesn’t know whether to frown.

“Yes,” Tobi answers without hesitation. “You’re a special kind of shinobi, Naruto. There are eight others like you, and we’re going to find all of them and bring them here.”

“Like a clan?” Naruto asks. “Like a family?”

“Maybe,” Pakura says, and when Naruto turns to look at her, she smiles thinly. “That will be up to you and the other jinchuuriki. But you all have something in common, and that gives you a place to start from.”

Iruka can't focus on that, though. He stares at Pakura, deathly cold, and repeats, “_All_ of them? You're—you don’t just want the Kyuubi, you want _all_ of the bijuu?”

Guren rolls her eyes, while Pakura looks unmoved, but Tobi just tips his head, a cruel smile pulling at his mouth. “All of them,” he confirms. “We already got the most difficult one. The rest will be easy in comparison.”

Easy. Easy to slip into the greatest of the villages, past their heaviest security, and subdue their strongest shinobi. Take their jinchuuriki, as simply as kidnapping a child out of a classroom. That’s—terrifying.

“You _can't_,” Iruka says, and doesn’t care that his voice shakes. “The villages have jinchuuriki for a _reason_—”

“_Certain villages_ have jinchuuriki,” Tobi corrects sharply, and he steps past Naruto to face Iruka directly. Between the one eye and the scars, he’s intimidating, but all it does is make Iruka bristle, not about to be bullied. He glares, but Tobi glares back, and snaps, “Do you have _any_ idea what Konoha did to Ame during the last war? Do you know why there are so many people crammed into this village? Because the rest of the land is _ruined_. Iwa changed the landscape, and Konoha scorched everything so badly that we _still_ can't grow anything here. There's no way for Ame to get stronger, because of what Iwa and Suna and Konoha did to us. You can think whatever you want about your village, but they way the Great Nations treat every village without a bijuu is worse than a damned bug under their shoe. We’re _collateral._ We’re patsies and we don’t even rate an apology after your villages get done _destroying our country_.”

The weight of the accusation is like a blow. Iruka steps back before he can help himself, stunned, but—anger flickers, indignation and offense, full of sharp teeth.

“That’s not—Konoha was trying to protect itself!” he says. “If Iwa had made it to the border—”

Tobi scoffs, and his expression is dark, angry. “Konoha and Iwa shouldn’t have been able to start that war to begin with,” he challenges. “If the jinchuuriki are really supposed to be deterrents, they _failed_. They’ve failed three times over. Ame and the other small countries couldn't stop you when you went to war before, but—this time we will. This time, we won't just be collateral.”

“You _can't_,” Iruka says, furious. “Just changing who has the jinchuuriki won't stop wars—”

Tobi laughs, short and harsh. “We’re _entirely_ aware,” he snaps. “We’re not going to keep them. We have bigger plans.”

If anything, that makes Iruka worry even more. “Just because you're angry at Konoha doesn’t mean you should forget that there were two sides in the war—” he starts.

“Iwa gave me these.” Tobi cuts him off, and sweeps a hand over the scars on his right side, expression coldly furious. “I got them saving the life of a Konoha shinobi. And you want to know who saved _me_? Our headwoman. She gave me back my sanity, my _life_, and if she says she wants the bijuu, I’ll wrap them up with bows and drop them on her doorstep. And when she has a good fucking reason to want the Great Nations’ power cut in half? I’d do _anything_ she asked of me to get us to that point.”

Iruka opens his mouth to yell back, to tell him just how stupid it is to do that, to blame Konoha, but Tobi raises a hand and the world suddenly warps. Iruka yelps, grabbing for something steady, but the ground beneath him vanishes, and he drops through a dark space and right out into the room where he woke up.

Instantly, Iruka bolts to his feet, wrenching around, but he’s alone. Panic flares, sending his heartbeat ratcheting up to speeds he hasn’t felt since his first glimpse of the Kyuubi looming over the village, and he bolts for the door. Grabs the knob, wrenches, but—

Locked. The door is locked, won't budge, and when Iruka grabs for his chakra, none comes. Instead, heat flares beneath his skin, and he wrenches his shirt up to find thick black marks scrawled across his chest. A seal, his chakra’s been _sealed_, and there’s no way out except through the door.

Iruka slams his fist into the metal, a sound of pure anguish tearing from his chest. Naruto is out there, _alone_, in the grip of a man who hates Konoha.

If he gets hurt, Iruka is never going to forgive himself for not being able to keep his damned mouth shut.


	4. Chapter 4

“Someday,” Guren says, coolly amused, “you're going to have to learn how to control your temper better.”

There’s still rage all tangled up in Obito's throat, a tight knot that won't let him breathe. Slowly, deliberately, he lowers his hand, then sidesteps the small body that comes barreling at him with a furious yell.

“Stop, Naruto,” he says, and when Naruto jerks around to try again, he grabs him by the back of his shirt. “Stop it. He’s fine, he’s just back in the room.”

Naruto stops short, squinting suspiciously at him. “You didn’t kill Iruka-sensei?” he demands. “He’s okay?”

“Probably yelling loud enough to wake the whole tower right now,” Obito says. “But yes. It’s just like a shunshin, only faster.”

“Okay,” Naruto says, still a little suspicious, but when Obito lets go of him, he doesn’t lunge fists-first again. “Why’d you send Iruka-sensei away, then?”

_Because I want to burn Konoha to the ground, and he can never understand why_, Obito thinks, but—likely Naruto won't understand either. Not yet. Maybe not ever, given what Obito has done. Given what he still has to do.

“Because we were both getting angry, and fighting here won't solve anything,” he says, and Pakura snorts. When he levels a dark look at her, though, she just arches a cool brow at him.

“How adult,” she says, perfectly bland.

“Stalked Maki recently?” Obito retorts, and Pakura's eyes narrow warningly.

With a sigh, Guren catches Pakura by the shoulder, tugging her back a step. “Weren’t we headed somewhere?” she asks.

Instantly, Naruto twitches like he’s going to bolt ahead, grabs Obito's cloak and bounces in place on his toes. “Ramen!” he says insistently.

There are far, far too many memories of Kushina with that same expression on her face, that same grin. For all Naruto has Minato's coloring, his face is all Kushina, and it turns like sick guilt in Obito's chest. He killed Zetsu, he turned his back on Madara, he’s working to find a way to make the world work so that no voice in the shadows will ever be able to destroy so many lives again, but—

That doesn’t change what’s already happened. That doesn’t change who he’s killed, or the people who have been hurt by his actions.

“Ramen,” he agrees, just a little too rough, and leans down. Catches Naruto around the knees, then boosts him up as he straightens, swinging him up on his shoulders. Naruto yelps, but it turns into a cheer an instant later, and small hands fist in Obito's hair.

“I'm _tall_,” Naruto says gleefully, and grins at Pakura. “I like your hair! It’s a pretty color!”

Pakura huffs quietly, but her smile is present even if it’s faint. “Thank you,” she says. “I’ve always liked it, too.”

Naruto beams, like that’s the best thing he’s ever heard, and ducks as they pass underneath another section of walkway. “Why are people walking up there?” he asks. “Isn't it a roof? Don’t they know that?”

“It’s not a roof,” Obito says. “The streets here are layered. See that opening up there? That leads down to the next level. Ame goes deep into the ground here.”

He doesn’t say that it’s a defense, both from Hanzō’s heavy poisons during his reign and then from the threat of Konoha or Iwa shinobi invading during the later war. After all, Ame was built at a strategic point between the two countries, and there was every chance they could have taken it over to use as a staging ground for attacks. All the layers, maze-like and tangled, are perfect for small numbers to hold of larger forces, scattering them and drawing them into ambushes.

Given what he and Konan are attempting, it’s only logical to maintain the levels.

“Oh,” Naruto says thoughtfully, and leans forward, almost overbalancing Obito. “Why doesn’t Konoha have streets like this?”

_Because Konoha’s never had to worry about being attacked,_ Obito wants to say.

Before he can, though, Guren makes a sound of amusement and offers, “Because Konoha is so big and spread out that they don’t need to build tall builds. But Ame doesn’t have a lot of room, so everything goes up instead of out.”

“The buildings are so _big_,” Naruto agrees, awed. “They're bigger than trees!”

“Certainly bigger than any trees in Ame,” Guren agrees, and slips past Obito, getting to the next downward gap and dropping through. Even though he isn't particularly worried about anyone lurking, since Kisame’s sharks chased off Jiraiya, Obito lets her, gives her a count of ten before he follows with Pakura one step behind him. Kamui makes either Naruto or Iruka escaping almost impossible, especially with a sensor like Karin so close and both of their captives marked with Konan's tracking paper, but it’s best not to be careless regardless.

“There are trees here?” Naruto asks in surprise. “Where?”

“Outside the village, mostly,” Obito says, and glances at Guren, who tips her head. Satisfied, Obito nods, then turns down a flight of twisting metal stairs that curl around the side of a building and descend to a balcony below. There are three more layers of streets below this one, not counting the tunnels underneath, and the murmur of voices and the smell of cooking food drifts up, counterpoint to the drum of the rain high above.

“Ame has about as many trees as Suna,” Pakura observes, and shakes her head as they pass into the interior of the restaurant. It’s dimly lit, the lights above flickering faintly, but it smells warm, familiar, and Obito can't help but breathe it in. No one else is present, and the runner who normally carries takeout orders is gone, leaving the place quiet.

“The usual?” Pakura asks, glancing at Obito and then at Guren.

“Please,” Guren says, and helps Naruto slide down off Obito's shoulders. “And what’s your favorite kind of ramen, then?” she asks him.

“One of everything!” Naruto cheers.

Pakura, who’s most certainly had the experience of eating with Komari and Karin, just snorts, but she sets a hand on his head before she steps past to greet the chef, a tiny old woman who eyes them all suspiciously. She smiles at Pakura, though, gesturing at her hitai-ate, and Pakura shakes her head, leaning in to answer in a low voice.

“Refugees from Suna stick together, I suppose,” Guren says, amused, and settles into a chair on the side of the table facing the door.

It leaves Obito free to put his back to the wall, something he’s grateful for. “They mostly complain about the rain together,” he says dryly, and helps Naruto settle himself in the chair beside him. “And then Danji gives her free food in solidarity.”

Guren pulls a face. “All of us hate the rain,” she says. “Except maybe Kisame. That’s not solidarity, it’s favoritism.”

“Danji survived Hanzō as a foreign nin in Ame. I'm not about to tell her what to do,” Obito retorts.

Guren rolls her eyes, but accepts that easily enough. “Suna tonight?” she asks instead. “I thought you were going to hit Kumo first.”

“Kumo's assigning genin teams,” Obito says disgustedly. “It looks like Bee’s been picked as a teacher, and Yugito is going to oversee things. I don’t want to grab them both at the same time, especially when they're both in the village.”

“A genin team?” Guren looks faintly troubled. “That could complicate things.”

“Leverage,” Obito says simply, and he hates it, hates the idea of using kids like he and Rin and Kakashi used to be against their teacher, but Bee and Gyūki together are too powerful, too closely allied. Getting Shukaku to listen won't be much of a problem, but talking Gyūki around will be a pain in the ass, without a doubt.

Guren sighs, but acknowledges that with a wave of one hand. “Pakura wandering around Suna is an invitation for disaster,” she points out.

“I’ll be watching.” Obito isn't about to lose one of their top shinobi, especially not to her old village. Not when she’s already survived one betrayal by them.

“You’d better,” Pakura says from his blind side, and Obito contains a flinch as he turns. Pakura just settles a tray in the center of the table and passes out bowls, settling three in front of Naruto before she takes her own. “Getting close enough to Gaara to track his movements is going to be a pain. Rasa doesn’t exactly pay attention to his kids, but they’ve got guards nearby more often than not.”

“They're guards meant to contain the Ichibi, not keep people away from Gaara,” Obito points out, dunking the halved egg deeper in the broth and then fishing it out. It’s been a long day of coordinating and staging agent drops all around the continent, and even if Kamui isn't the most chakra-heavy Mangekyō technique, it’s still draining. The first bite of noodles hitting his stomach reminds him just how hungry he is, and he concentrates on getting as much down as he can before someone else asks him something.

When he looks up, Guren is watching him with one brow raised, eating her ramen much more slowly, and Obito rolls his eye at her and swallows. “I was working with Sasori,” he says in defense.

Guren's grimace says she knows exactly what he means. “No breaks at all,” she says. “He’s a…” Pausing, she snorts. “Well. I’d say slave-driver, but Orochimaru was worse. Sasori's just a tyrant.”

“Orochimaru won't be driving anyone like that anymore,” Obito says flatly, because the Snake Sannin is currently stewing in one of the lowest levels of Ame, with no chance of escape. He’s smart enough to cooperate, in order to make his life more pleasant, but he’s still not getting out any time soon.

Guren smiles, cold and full of satisfaction. “Believe me, that’s the main reason I can sleep easy at night,” she says, and goes back to her food.

“Getting the Ichibi out of Rasa’s hands will be the same for me,” Pakura says wryly. “And knocking Kiri down a few pegs won't hurt, either.”

If Komari hadn’t been the one to find her, in the aftermath of her betrayal by Suna and Kiri alike, Pakura wouldn’t have survived even long enough for Obito to get her back to Ame. It’s hard to blame her for her anger, in the face of that. “Soon,” Obito says, and means it.

Pakura meets his eyes across the table, grimly satisfied, and inclines her head.

“Do you need more hands for scouting?” Guren asks. “I've been to Suna a few times, and I have a handful of contacts there. Since I'm not from one of the villages, they might overlook me.”

Obito opens his mouth to refuse, but Pakura is already shaking her head. “Suna's in dire straits right now, with the daimyo shifting missions away from the village. A foreign nin wandering around will just make everyone more hostile, and you won't pass as a Suna nin.”

“Between Yashamaru’s connection to Gaara and Pakura's Scorch Release, we shouldn’t need too much manpower for the actual abduction, either,” Obito adds. “I want to keep the teams as small as possible, so that no one can figure out who’s behind the attacks.”

Guren doesn’t look overly pleased, but she lifts a hand in surrender. “The offer stands, if you need me. I'm off for the next week, and there are only so many times I can clean the house or train before I start climbing the walls.”

“Thanks,” Obito says, and means it. Guren, the last of her clan and with no known affiliations to a village, is a valuable shinobi especially when they want to keep Ame's name out of things, and her willingness to fight for the village that saved her, Yūkimaru, and his mother is always appreciated.

“Are you going to steal someone else?” Naruto asks, and when Obito glances over he’s watching them carefully. Not quite warily, but there’s a level of assessment to it that Obito knows all too well. It’s the _are you a friend or are you going to be cruel_ sort of judgement that a half-Uchiha boy once had to make within his own clan, and the kind Naruto must have been making every day of his life from the very first, being what he is.

“Yes,” Obito says honestly, because there’s nothing Naruto can do to stop him, no matter who he tells. Ame as a village already knows, and Iruka isn't a threat. “A boy from another village, who’s just like you. People hate him, too, and I'm going to make it stop.”

For a long moment, Naruto is silent. Then, precisely, he pushes away his last bowl of ramen and asks quietly, “Why? Why’d people get mad at both of us?”

Obito thinks of the Kyuubi, vast and terrifying, of turning it on Konoha. Thinks of Kushina, so fierce and bright, and of Minato, so desperate to save the village that he sacrificed his own son’s existence in the name of it.

“Did anyone ever tell you about the demon fox who tried to destroy Konoha?” he asks, and Naruto's eyes widen, but he nods. “Good. The Kyuubi almost flattened the whole village, but the Yondaime stopped it. He sealed it into his own son, because that was the best way to contain it.”

And—maybe it’s petty, maybe it’s blind when Obito was the cause of the whole situation, but a part of him will never forgive Minato for choosing that route. He could have sealed the beast back into Kushina as she died, let it reform slowly, years later, and kept working as Konoha's Hokage. But instead, he’d chosen to let both of Naruto's parents die, had sealed the Kyuubi into Naruto, had left him alone, an orphan, to grow up with nothing in the village except the people’s hatred.

Like putting Kakashi into ANBU at fourteen, fresh off the grief of losing Obito and killing Rin. Such a complete lack of understanding where other humans are concerned, of how much pain would result, and sometimes Obito wonders if Minato wasn’t just as cold as Orochimaru somewhere deep inside, for all he hid it better.

“His son?” Naruto asks, and his voice cracks. Wide blue eyes are fixed on Obito, stunned, and Obito can't manage to dredge up a smile. “You have the Kyuubi sealed inside you,” he tells Naruto bluntly, not about to sugarcoat it. “The same Kyuubi that nearly leveled Konoha. People are afraid of the demon fox, so they’re afraid of you, and it turns into hate.”

There's a long, long moment of silence, and then Naruto swallows. “Oh,” he says, wavering. Looks down, shoulders hunching, and says, “My—my dad sealed it into me?”

“Yes,” Obito says. Wants to reach out, but—he doesn’t have the right. “Your mother was the second container of the Kyuubi. When I pulled him out of her, to set him on Konoha, it killed her. Minato resealed it, but the effort killed him as well.”

Naruto's face is perfectly, deathly pale as he stares at Obito.

Obito faces him squarely. Wants to flinch, but won't let himself. He knows what he did, and he’s not about to lie about it. “I told you,” he says grimly. “You should hate me, Naruto. I did something terrible to you, and I regret it. I’ll regret it until I die, but that doesn’t change that I did it.”

“I think,” Naruto says, wavering, “that I want to go back to Iruka-sensei now.”

Not unexpected. Obito nods, sliding out of his chair to crouch in front of Naruto. “I can't bring Minato and Kushina back,” he says, holding Naruto's eyes. “But I'm going to remove the Kyuubi from you, Naruto. That’s why Konan and I took you. Once the fox is gone, there will be no reason for people to hate you. And with the Uzumaki, you can have a family. Here or in Konoha, whatever you want.”

Naruto hesitates, expression twisting up. Then, jerkily, he nods, and Obito forces himself to breathe out. Raises a hand, letting Kamui twist to life, and says, “Naruto, I'm sorry.”

Because he’s a coward, Obito lets Kamui swallow Naruto before he has time to answer, and drops him back in the room in the tower, far enough away that Obito can keep running from what he did for a little while longer.

Guren and Pakura pretend like they're not watching him, occupying themselves with their food. Obito breathes in, breathes out, and forces himself to keep moving, keep thinking about Suna and what’s coming.

If he stands still, even here, he’s going to drown.

“Kakashi?” Shisui asks quietly.

Kakashi doesn’t pause. His hands keep moving, packing his bag, checking sealing scrolls, holstering kunai. “Yes?” he asks, and that tone of voice is a thousand times too mild for the line of his shoulders, the stiffness of his spine.

Dread is a familiar feeling, heavy and nauseating in the pit of Shisui's stomach. “I thought the Hokage took you off the duty roster,” he manages, but—that’s not really his question.

“The Hokage is still recovering,” Kakashi says blandly. “The attacker managed to damage his spine during their fight, and she must have poisoned her paper, because his body is rejecting medical chakra.”

Shisui's entirely aware of that. The whole village is, gone quiet and grim, wondering if they’re going to lose yet another Kage to an enemy attack. For a village that’s never suffered the immediate effects of invasion, losing two Hokage like that within a decade is gutting.

“The Hokage might not recover,” Shisui says, because it needs to be said, because it’s the truth. “You're one of the top candidates. You _can't_ leave right now.”

“If I'm gone, there’s every chance he’ll pick you,” Kakashi counters, and glances up. His eyes crinkles the tell of a smile, but Shisui doesn’t need to be able to see the rest of his face to know it’s absolutely fake. “It’s about time for an Uchiha Hokage, isn't it?”

Shisui's never wanted to be Hokage. It can be someone else’s dream, because he’s always operated best in the shadows, without the need for glory or thanks or any sort of oversight. “Kakashi—” he starts again.

“I,” Kakashi says softly, precisely, “lost Naruto. I have to get him back.”

“I know,” Shisui says, equally quiet, because arguing hasn’t worked any other time. “Let me come with you, Kakashi.”

That, finally, makes Kakashi hesitate. He pauses, the flap of his pack half-tied, and glances up at Shisui for a long moment. “You,” he says.

Shisui smiles cheerfully, even though it’s an effort. “Sure,” he says lightly. “I'm one of the top officers in the Military Police, and they're getting ready to launch an investigation anyway. Tracking the kidnappers seems like a good way to bring in more information. Besides, Mikoto already agreed.”

Kakashi frowns, like he’s considering that. “Fugaku—”

“Fugaku is the Clan Head, but he doesn’t have anything to do with Military Police matters,” Shisui says. Pauses, and smiles wryly. “I'm pretty sure him trying to tell Mikoto what to do got him ejected onto the couch for the next _year_, too.”

That at least makes Kakashi snort, and he looks up, eyes tracing over Shisui's sword, his pack, his Military Police uniform. “And how exactly did you sell this to Mikoto?” he asks.

Shisui grins. “Obviously the attackers had precise knowledge of the village,” he says. “Including guard rotations and the location of the targets. I'm looking into the possibility of a conspiracy with discontents in the village, making links with outside enemies.”

“No wonder Mikoto bought it,” Kakashi allows, and sighs. Straightens, though the weary slump of his shoulders doesn’t go away, and says, “If you're ready, I'm leaving now. Are you sure you want to miss a potential promotion to Hokage?”

“If anything, going out to hunt down the attackers boosts my credentials,” Shisui says, which is only kind of a lie. It definitely gives the councilors like Danzō more maneuvering room to add their own suggestions, but at the end of the day, the next Hokage is Sarutobi’s choice. Shisui trusts him to make the best decision for the sake of the village. “Besides, this is more important.”

Already Kumo has been acting aggressively, pushing forward along the borders, taking more missions than normal in Fire Country. Apparently Sarutobi’s capitulation regarding the Hyuuga Affair isn't enough for A, because tensions are rising again. There’s a war coming, and Shisui already lived through one of those. The theft of a jinchuuriki, already a terrible thing, is made all the worse by the looming conflict, and if Kumo managed to snatch Naruto out from under their noses, that could be the trigger. It could be the sign pointing to Konoha's loss, too—three jinchuuriki on the opposing side makes for really, really bad odds.

Kakashi’s breath shakes faintly, and his laugh is a scratchy, raw thing. “More important,” he repeats, like it’s amusing, and then casts Shisui a truly awful smile. “I'm not going to get out jinchuuriki back for the sake of Konoha, Shisui,” he says. “I'm going to get _Naruto_.”

“Yeah,” Shisui says quietly, because he’s been watching Kakashi for years at this point, knows the names he talks to most on the Memorial. “I know.”

For a long, long moment, Kakashi stares at him. Then, carefully, he nods. “All right,” he agrees, and pushes past Shisui, headed for the window, and—

Stops.

“Shisui,” he says warningly.

Arms folded over her chest, Izumi doesn’t move from her post beside the door. “I'm not coming with you, don’t worry,” she tells Kakashi, and looks at Shisui. “The Hokage is officially in a coma now.”

Shisui nods, because he’s been expecting that. Sarutobi has been on the edge of it since the attack, and with his age, with the strain of that much poison, it isn't a surprise. “You got your orders?” he asks.

Izumi smiles, straightening, and salutes him. “I'm leaving now,” she says. “I just wanted to let you know before I did.”

“Thanks, Izumi,” Shisui says, and manages a slightly more genuine smile in return. “Break a leg. Preferably someone else’s.”

That makes Izumi laugh, and she steps back towards the door. “Itachi will be sad if you get yourself killed, so be careful,” she retorts, and then directs a look at Kakashi. “You know your door is open?”

“I always use the window,” Kakashi says mildly, and Izumi shakes her head, mutters something under her breath, and vanishes from the apartment.

Feeling Kakashi’s eye on him, Shisui raises his hands. “I didn’t ask her to barge in, she was just looking for me! I swear, she’s in a hurry or she would have been more polite.”

“In a hurry,” Kakashi echoes, and raises a pointed eyebrow.

“To find Tsunade,” Shisui confesses without hesitation. If anyone will support Tsunade's return to the village, either to heal the Sandaime or become the new Godaime, it’s Kakashi. “Ibiki was saying he’d heard a rumor of her in Wave, so Izumi’s going to try and track her down. I thought it was a good alternative.”

For the first time, Kakashi’s gaze actually seems to focus on him, something thoughtful in his expression. “It is,” he says, and then smiles, just a little, but real. “Quick thinking.”

Shisui accepts that with a grin, following on his heels as he ducks out the window and leaps to the next rooftop. “You're not the only one who failed,” he reminds Kakashi, and maybe it’s a little harsh, but—they're all Konoha shinobi, and none of them managed to hurt the intruders, or even lay a hand on them. “Genma, Raidō, and Iwashi all got pounded into the sidewalk by _plants_, and none of the Barrier Squad even _noticed_ those assholes get in. None of the Military Police were able to stop them, either. Or ANBU. Or T&I. Or—”

“Point taken,” Kakashi says wryly, but he’s looking away again, instead of at Shisui. “I was the only one in the forest, though.”

“And got eaten by a _tree_,” Shisui reminds him. “Who the hell prepares for _that_?”

“Tenzō does.”

Shisui will grudgingly allow him that one. “Who else besides the man with _Mokuton_ bothers to prepare for that, then. No one else has it. That’s the whole reason Orochimaru is terrifying and also a missing-nin.”

The breath Kakashi takes is heavy, obvious even over the sound of sandals on the roof tiles. “I know,” he says on a sigh, and then glances over as Shisui lands beside him. Smiles, wan and tired, but says, “Thanks, Shisui.”

Shisui smiles back, and wants to say, _I would do anything to make you keep smiling, Kakashi_, but that’s not what Kakashi needs to hear right now, so he doesn’t. knots it up, tucks it away, and waves to Hana as they cross over the top of the gate. She waves back, her trio of ninken barking around her feet, but Kakashi doesn’t pause, so Shisui doesn’t either. Keeps going, landing lightly on the branch of a looming oak, and asks, “So where to first?”

Kakashi pauses, gaze slipping away to the far distance, and then visibly steels himself. “Whoever did this, they demanded Danzō in return for their hostage,” he says. “It could have been a distraction, but—”

“But Danzō’s pissed off enough people that there's every chance it wasn’t,” Shisui finishes for him, and it’s true that a lot of Danzō’s methods make his skin crawl, but he can admire the man’s drive to protect Konoha, his ruthlessness in the name of saving the village. It’s definitely not the sort of thing that tends to make a person friends, though.

Kakashi makes a sound of confirmation, then picks a path northwest of the village. “If someone in the Daimyō’s court is working with foreign shinobi, Asuma will likely have heard the rumors.”

“Wouldn’t he have told Sarutobi, though?” Shisui asks, confused.

Kakashi’s snort says there’s a lot more history there than Shisui's ever managed to notice. “If it was a direct threat, maybe. If it’s just rumors, I think he’d go out of his way not to report them to Konoha.”

Definitely tension there, Shisui thinks, and that sinking feeling is back. This is likely going to get really complicated, really fast. Fabulous.


	5. Chapter 5

A good half of Iruka is expecting the next warping spiral of air to produce Naruto’s battered body, or maybe Tobi with some sort of executioner’s blade drawn. Would almost _welcome_ a fight, after a frantic hour spent pacing and raging and regretting every moment of not trying harder to overcome his fear. If Naruto knew him better, if Naruto actually trusted him, if he’d been a better teacher and a better person, _maybe_—

The twist of air that shoved him back into the room reappears, freezing his breath in his lungs, and Iruka is on his feet before he can even think to move.

For one desperate moment, Iruka thinks of lunging right into it, shoving himself through and taking Tobi by surprise. It’s some kind of portal, some kind of jutsu, and doors work both ways, after all. If he can push past it, get back out, maybe he can take Tobi as a hostage, get leverage, get them _out_.

But, before he can try it, a small form appears, and Iruka’s breath bursts from him on a ragged, wounded sound of relief. He grabs Naruto before his feet can even touch the floor, hauls him up and into his arms and away from Tobi’s jutsu, and says desperately, “_Naruto_. Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Are you—_what’s wrong_?”

Naruto’s breath hitches on a sob, shakes out on a wail. He shoves his face into Iruka’s shirt, clutching at him with both hands, and says, “Iruka-sensei, _I don’t want people to hate me_.”

The jagged, deep-rooted pain in Iruka’s chest makes it feel like his heart is cracking, and he tightens his arms around Naruto, sinking down to the floor beside the bed with his back against the frame. Runs one shaking hand over blond hair, and says fiercely, “I don’t, Naruto, I don’t, I _swear_. You’re—I’ve never hated you.”

It’s not a lie. Even when Iruka was terrified of the possibility of the Kyuubi breaking free, he still wasn’t scared of _Naruto_. Naruto is lonely and loud and impossibly familiar, sweet and desperate for human contact and so determined to prove himself. Nothing of that is the demon fox, Iruka is sure of it.

A hiccupping sob almost makes him start crying, too, but Naruto’s hands tighten in his shirt, pull, and he says, “Tobi told me there’s a demon fox in me.”

Cold trepidation slips like ice down Iruka’s spine, and he swallows, wondering how the Hokage’s laws apply here. Naruto knows about the Kyuubi, but can Iruka talk about it? Is he supposed to deny it? Can he talk freely now, since Naruto technically spilled the secret to him himself?

“Did he?” he asks unsteadily. “I—”

“And,” Naruto interrupts, loud, focused, “Tobi said he’s the one who made the Kyuubi attack Konoha, but he was _sorry_. But even if he feels bad I’m still mad, Iruka-sensei.”

Oh.

His hands are shaking, Iruka thinks distantly. He’s trembling all over, bone-deep, and there’s a ringing sort of emptiness in his head. The words won’t come, his throat too thick to get them out even if he could find them. His heart jars sideways in his chest, an echoing, empty beat that could be rage or could be grief or could be neither one at all.

“Sorry,” he repeats, and it sounds like it’s from a great distance. “For setting the Kyuubi on Konoha. He’s _sorry_.”

Naruto nods against his chest, not raising his head. Iruka is glad, distantly. He’s not sure he could control his face right now if Naruto were to look at him. “He said he’s gonna take the Kyuubi out of me, so that no one has to hate me again.”

Removing the Kyuubi will kill Naruto. Iruka doesn’t exactly know a lot about jinchuuriki, but he knows that much. With a trembling breath, he buries his face in Naruto’s hair, tightens his arms around him.

The monster that killed his parents isn’t inside of Naruto. It’s out there, in the village of Ame, and it’s planning to kill Naruto, too.

Iruka will die before he lets that happen, and as long as he takes Tobi with him, he’ll die happy.

The bare brush of shinobi-soft footsteps wakes Obito from a restless, unsettled sleep, and he has a hand on the kunai under his pillow before the paper and perfumed rain of Konan’s chakra settles over him. Instantly, the automatic tension bleeds out of his muscles, and he rolls over onto his stomach, turning his head.

“You’re up late tonight,” he says sleepily.

Konan’s mouth tips up just the barest bit, a tired smile. Without hesitation, she unbuttons her shirt, letting it drop to the ground, and then steps out of her pants. A moment later her underwear follows, and with a sigh Obito lifts one corner of the blankets for her. Konan slips in beside him, settling on the mattress, and reaches up to pull the paper flower from her hair.

“One of our shinobi spotted Han in Hot Springs Country,” she says, and Obito watches through one heavy-lidded eye as her hair falls around the slender column of her throat. It looks black in the low light, like silk. “I was coordinating.”

Obito hums in acknowledgement. There’s always something unexpected, always a matter that needs their attention. They’re launching a war, after all, or the next best thing to a coup, and Ame has never been any sort of power in the political sphere.

All of that’s going to change soon.

“Pakura’s in Suna,” he offers, still watching Konan. She’s always beautiful, but when the light from the lone lamp catches her features, falls over the outline of her, she’s a thing of shadow and brilliance, and it’s hard for Obito to look away. “I’ll be up early, checking in, and then I’ll get things ready for Gaara and meet with Kakuzu about the space we need.”

Konan grimaces faintly, reaching out, and in the darkness her fingertips trace the deep scars carved into Obito’s body. “I wish we could test that it will work on something other than a bijuu,” she says.

“I won’t let it touch Ame,” Obito promises, and means it. If he has to seal Shukaku into the nearest rock, or into himself, to keep the beast from reaching the village, he’ll do it without hesitation. Even if it means his life. Konan’s earned that a thousand times over.

She leans down, kissing the curve of his shoulder, and Obito can feel the smile on her lips. “I know,” she says, unhesitating. “But I don’t like the risk to you.”

“I can be intangible, and I can use Kamui to move all the way across the country in less time than it takes Shukaku to call up a bijuudama,” Obito says, amused. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Konan’s hand flattens against his spine, strokes down. Then, with a soft sigh, she slips all the way under the blankets, rolls over, and Obito shifts so that she can mold herself against his spine, soft breasts and hard muscle and the tangle of their legs as she settles. Her forehead comes to rest against the nape of his neck, breath warm against his spine, and one slim hand settles over his stomach, fingers pressed against the edge of his scars.

Carefully, Obito fits his fingers over hers, lacing them, and closes his eyes.

“I worry anyway,” Konan says quietly, like it’s a confession.

Obito swallows, tightens his grip on her hand. “Thank you,” he answers, rough in his throat, and there’s nothing in this that he deserves, nothing that the world owes him that could result in something this soft and aching. He’s betrayed everything, lost everything due to his own actions, let himself be controlled.

He’s still controlled. If Konan told him tomorrow that she wanted his heart, he’s cut it out for her with his own hand. If she told him to leave and never come back, he’d do that. But—

But Konan has her own betrayals. She’s a dark thing, angry, bitter, biting. She kills without mercy, protects without pause, would tear the world apart to get her revenge. _Will_ tear the world apart, with what they’re planning.

But she’s kind, too, and her body is warm against his, warm when Obito had once thought he’d never feel warm again. They’re breathing in synch, and Konan saved him. Saved him from Madara, from Zetsu, from a mad, headlong rush into destruction, and Obito aches right down to his bones with gratitude.

The softness of Konan’s breaths fade into the deepness of sleep, but Obito lies awake for a while longer, listening to the beat of the rain against the windows, the beat of Konan’s heart beside him in the dark.

The difference between Ame’s cool damp and Suna’s dry heat is jarring, especially traveling with Kamui. Obito steps out onto a sandy street and immediately grimaces, putting a hand up to adjust his mask. Sweating underneath the porcelain isn’t going to be fun.

Yashamaru doesn’t look any happier to be back in the village. Obito can only see his eyes from behind the cloth that veils his face, Suna’s version of an ANBU mask, but he’s grim, quiet as he takes three steps back into the shadows of the closest building.

“How long until sunset?” he asks.

Obito judges the height of the walls around them, the length of the shadows. “Less than two hours,” he says, and Yashamaru breathes in, nods, and turns away, heading into the twisting maze of the streets. They’re near the center of the village, the roads crowded with people and while Obito gets a few sideways looks for his obviously foreign clothes and mask, Yashamaru looking like an ANBU providing escort is enough to make their eyes keep moving a moment later.

“Rasa’s a fool, but he pays attention to the village,” Yashamaru says softly. “We probably don’t have long before he notices.”

Out of the press of the crowd, there’s a soft snort, and a moment later Pakura falls into step with them, face concealed by the deep drape of her hood. “He hasn’t noticed me yet,” she points out, then steers Yashamaru left. “Gaara’s close to the playground. The only guard I saw was Baki. If that’s going to be a problem—”

Yashamaru pulls a face, though he looks faintly rueful. “Our relationship ended when he told me he thought torturing my nephew was a good idea,” he says. “It won’t matter.”

Pakura doesn’t look convinced, but when she glances at Obito he just opens a hand. This is already going to be difficult; going looking for extra trouble is just asking for something to go wrong.

Apparently displeased with this, Pakura sighs in irritation, but doesn’t press the matter. “Fine. Tobi, are you coming with me?”

Obito pauses, considering. Pakura facing down Rasa is more dangerous than Yashamaru dealing with Gaara, but at the same time, Gaara is the important part. If something _does_ go wrong, if Baki manages to stop Yashamaru—

“Go with Pakura,” Yashamaru says, amused. “I can handle Baki, especially when he doesn’t know it’s me.”

“All right,” Obito says, because it’s not as though he can’t jump from one to the other in an instant. “Rasa’s in his office?”

Pakura’s smile is a thin, cruel thing. “He is. Four guards, and his children are close by. The children he _acknowledges_, at least.”

While Gaara is sitting alone on a playground in the opposite direction, unattended except for one jounin loyal to his father. Obito scowls, but forces himself to keep moving. By the time they’re done with the villages, jinchuuriki will no longer be a concern. “All right. Yashamaru, signal if you need help.”

Yashamaru inclines his head, then splits off, sliding through the crowd and vanishing down a narrow side-street. Pakura turns the other way, making for the dome of the Kazekage’s office with confident steps. Her head is up, her chakra roiling right beneath her skin, and there’s a tension to her that’s half viciousness and half anticipation. No pause in her, and after the way she ended her career as a Suna nin, it’s not a surprise.

“I can take out the guards,” he offers, watching her face.

Pakura pauses, turning the offer over for a moment, and then shakes her head. “Stay out of sight,” she tells him grimly. “I want to remind Rasa why it’s a bad idea to treat his shinobi as disposable catspaws.”

“Have fun,” Obito says, dry as dust, and lets Kamui curl around him, one half-step sideways and then out again, perched on the edge of a roof right below a tower jutting skyward. Below him, Pakura pushes through the edge of the crowd, then steps into the plaza before the administration building and pauses there, face turned upward like she’s looking for Rasa through the window.

It’s the same tactic that they used against Konoha, but that hardly matters. Word hasn’t had time to spread yet—even the quickest spy couldn’t make the trip in a single day—and beyond that, a threat to the Kage is always going to be the most pressing thing for a village’s forces to deal with. Under the cover of that, it’s ridiculously easy to make off with a single person, even one as valuable as a jinchuuriki.

Rasa’s strong, and his technique makes him dangerous. He wouldn’t be Kazekage if he weren’t the strongest shinobi in Suna, but he’s also just one man. Just one person, with all the status and symbolism that a Kage can have. If the village can’t protect him, it’s more than just a failure to keep their strongest shinobi alive. It’s a sign of weakness, an opening.

Ame’s going to cut the bigger villages open and tear out their hearts, and that will be weakness enough.

Deliberately, defiantly, Pakura lifts her hands, and her chakra surges. Suna is already a hot, dry place, but as her Scorch Release flares to life Obito can feel it get drier, hotter. The temperature ratchets up, and with a crackle, spinning balls of molten flame kindle. They spin between her fingers, then out through the air, and Pakura slashes a hand forward with a cry of fury. Instantly, the orbs go spinning up, scattering civilians with ringing cries, and crash right through the wall of the building.

Just like Konan, Obito thinks in amusement, watching her. Pakura knows precisely how to get attention when she wants it.

“Rasa!” she cries, voice pitched to carry, all but _vibrating_ with pure fury. “Rasa, come and meet me! You couldn’t even betray me to my face, you had to leave it to Kiri and then blame Iwa for your cowardice! How _dare _you!”

In the smoke, in the rubble, a figure appears. Not the Kazekage, but an older man, dark-haired and wearing the robes of one of Suna's councilors. For a long moment, he stares down at Pakura, then takes a breath and says, “So this is how the Hero of Suna returns to her village.”

The heat of Pakura's kekkei genkai is at odds with the arctic fury in her eyes. “Gōza. Still kissing Rasa's heels like the obedient dog you are?”

The councilor’s mouth turns down, displeased. “Suna has done nothing to earn your ire, Pakura, but I have to say the joy at realizing you survived—”

“Joy?” Pakura spits. “There was no joy. Suna sent me out under false pretenses, traded me to Kiri to _die_, and I’ve only returned to demand Rasa's head. Surrender it, or I’ll take it myself.”

Gōza scowls, raises his hands—

Pakura is faster.

Fire roars, so hot that Obito feels it like a Katon he couldn’t quite dodge, even from his perch. He puts a hand up to shield his face, the cloak little help, and hears screams rise. Hears steps, too, shinobi-quick, but Pakura doesn’t need his help to make her point. He lowers his arm just in time to watch one of the Kazekage's guards leap for her, and a mummified husk hit the ground an instant later without Pakura so much as glancing over.

“Get out of my way, Gōza,” Pakura warns sharply, more orbs spinning to life around her, and at the edge of the ruined wall Gōza’s eyes go wide. He lunges back, too slow, too soft—

Pakura's Scorch Release hits a barrier of gold and burns right through.

“Rasa,” she says, low, _furious_, and slashes a hand out. Her chakra splits, washing apart like waves separating, and she glares through the gap as the gold swirls away, condensing back into a halo around the form of the Kazekage.

Stepping through the ruined wall, Rasa drops down to the plaza, then slowly straightens, watching Pakura with dark-ringed eyes. “Pakura,” he says grimly. “You survived.”

Pakura smiles, thin and cold. “I did,” she agrees, and raises her hands above her head, letting a ball of fire spin to life. The heat in the plaza creeps up, stifling, and Obito abandons his post, slips into Kamui and reemerges several buildings away, crouched on the railing of a balcony. The air is swimming, thick with heat and impossibly dry, and Pakura's face is a mask of rage as she lets her technique build.

“I _survived_,” she snarls at Rasa. “You had me killed, but I don’t surrender so easily, Rasa, and in return I'm going to take away what’s most precious to you.”

Gold Dust sweeps up, more and more filling the overheated air. Obito isn't an expert, hasn’t done more than observe the Kazekage from a distance, but—it almost seems like his technique is moving more slowly than normal, more fluidly. Melting, Obito assumes; gold has a low melting point, and Pakura isn't pulling any punches when it comes to her kekkei genkai.

“My life?” Rasa asks, and the drip of that tone is all derision, all hackle-raising amusement. “If you think my life is the most precious thing I have, Pakura, you’ve misunderstood something fundamental.”

Pakura laughs, not a trace of humor in it. “Oh, no, Rasa,” she says. “I’m going to take something _far_ more valuable from you.”

Her technique _shatters_, and Obito leaps back, right into Kamui. Steps out the other side, more than able to understand a cue when one is dropped in his lap, and falls down three stories to land lightly on the top of a swing set, cocking his head and looking down. The rumble of Pakura's explosion is behind him, but he ignores it, focusing on the sight of Yashamaru on the ground, struggling with a bigger man as Gaara watches in horror.

There's no time. The heat wave is about to hit them, and Suna is mostly made of sandstone. There’s not a lot of protection from Pakura's Scorch Release, not when she decides to throw every bit of her anger right in Rasa's face. For half an instant Obito wavers, but the wash of fire approaching decides matters for him; he lunges, Kamui spinning like a tornado to swallow them up, and the Suna nin shouts in surprise as he falls. Yashamaru is used to the motion, though, and he jerks, twists, and slams his opponent into one of the squared-off pillars.

“Good timing,” he tells Obito breathlessly, and drags ninja wire out of his weapons pouch to bind the man’s hands tightly.

Obito snorts, kicking a dropped kunai out of range and over the edge of the pillar. Glances at the man’s face, assessing, and then lifts an eyebrow behind the cover of his mask. “I thought you said you could handle Baki.”

“I did,” Yashamaru retorts, and when he goes to rise to his feet, Obito offers him a hand. With a faint smile, Yashamaru takes it, letting Obito pull him up, and then immediately turns, opening his arms. “Gaara, are you all right?”

Pale eyes widen, and Gaara pauses. Looks between Yashamaru and Baki, and then says, on the edge of desperate, “You _left_.”

Very deliberately, Obito drops a sandal in between Baki's shoulder blades, pinning him to the floor with a foot before he can squirm away.

Yashamaru’s face twists, and without hesitation he drops to his knees, still watching Gaara. “I did,” he confirms. “But—Gaara, I wouldn’t have left unless I had to. The Kazekage gave me two choices, and both of them would hurt you, so I just—had to leave. And it was elfish, but I didn’t want to have to betray you. No matter what. Because I love you, Gaara. Just like your mother did.”

For a long moment, Gaara doesn’t say anything. His face screws up, his eyes close, and the air around him stirs warningly. Obito narrows his eyes, wary, waiting, because he’s never tried to contain a bijuu in this dimension, but while he _probably_ can, he’s not entirely sure he wants to attempt it. Mokuton at least has a history of holding bijuu back, but there’s nothing natural in Kamui.

Then, abruptly, Gaara says, “_Yashamaru_,” like his heart is breaking, and throws himself forward. Deep, terrible relief flashes across Yashamaru’s face, and he catches Gaara, hauls him up and into a tight hug. Buries his face in red hair, whispering, and Obito can only catch _we’re going home, Gaara, we’re going home,_ but—

That’s more than enough, isn't it?

“Yashamaru,” he says quietly, and there’s a long pause before Yashamaru lifts his head. He roughly brushes the wetness from his cheeks, then nods and rises to his feet, bringing Gaara with him.

“Pakura?” he asks, ignoring the startled noise Baki makes.

Obito snorts. “Where do you think the fire started?” he asks, and glances sideways. One thing to face Baki, but—Rasa was his brother-in-law once. Rasa's order was what drove him out of Suna, and Rasa's decision killed his twin sister. Pakura has a hell of a lot of reasons to hate Rasa, but so does Yashamaru.

But Yashamaru meets his stare evenly, grip on Gaara tightening. “Let’s go,” he says determinedly.

Far be it from him to argue, so Obito steps forward. Checks the heat of the warping air, and it’s still intense, but not nearly as much so as before. Containing a breath of relief, Obito lets the portal open around himself and Yashamaru, dropping them into a patch of shadow cast by a piece of broken stone. It’s partially melted, embedded in the flagstones, and beyond it is nothing but ruin.

In the center of the devastation, Pakura is still on her feet, eyes steely. More of her orbs spin around her fingers, a clear threat, and the whole area is empty, shattered and burning and flecked with splatters of molten gold. Pakura is smiling, and it’s easily the most terrifying expression Obito has ever seen on her face.

Across from her, blistered and wavering, Rasa has one hand braced against the edge of a building. Each breath looks painful, like Pakura's Scorch Release burned his lungs in addition to searing his skin, and while there’s still Gold Dust swirling around him, it looks like he spent most of it protecting the fleeing villagers.

“You can't destroy the whole village,” Rasa manages. “The Puppeteer Corps is already on their way.”

Pakura laughs at that. “Wooden puppets? Against _me_?” she scoffs, and her gaze slips sideways, to where a child-shaped shadow is hovering at the edge of protective basement. “Even if they were a threat, I think I can turn your children into mummies long before they get here.”

Rasa stiffens, but before he can open his mouth, Pakura turns, her eyes landing on Yashamaru. Satisfaction curls her mouth, and she says, “Well. Maybe there’s a better way to bring you down a peg, Rasa.”

Deliberately, Yashamaru steps out of the shadows, arms tight around Gaara, and says like it’s a challenge, “Rasa.”

For a moment, the only thing on Rasa's face is complete incomprehension. He looks from Yashamaru to Pakura, and even under the reddened burn, he goes about three shades paler.

“Yashamaru,” he says, a plea for it not to be true.

Yashamaru smiles, too, just a little. Looks down at Gaara, touches his cheek, and then raises his head to meet Rasa's gaze again.

“Karura would hate you for what you wanted to do,” he says, and Rasa doesn’t quite flinch, but—Obito is pretty sure he wants to. “And for what you’ve done.”

“She would hate you just as much for deserting her son,” Rasa says flatly, and takes a step forward. “Yashamaru. Surrender.”

“Never,” Yashamaru says without hesitation, bright and vicious, and Obito lets Kamui swallow all of them, touching down in his dimension and then right into the main part of Yashamaru’s rooms.

With a laugh, Yashamaru spins Gaara in a circle, then clutches him close again. “_Gaara_,” he says, wondering. “Welcome home. This is my home, and I want it to be yours, too.”

“You do?” Gaara asks, disbelieving, but he looks around the rooms and then back up at Yashamaru, a smile breaking over his face. “_Yes_,” he says firmly.

Pakura's breath is low and satisfied, and she glances down, then snorts. Crouches, dragging Baki's headwrap free and dropping to the side so she can see his face. “Baki,” she says, amused, and gets a growl in returns. Slants a glance up at Obito, and asks, “Another stray?”

“I was just going to dump him in the dungeon with Orochimaru,” Obito says, shrugging. “The more of Suna's power structure that we can remove, the better.”

“Well, I ‘removed’ most of the administration center,” Pakura says dryly, getting a hand on Baki's elbow and dragging him up to his feet. “So there will be a little extra chaos for Rasa to deal with.”

“You're a _traitor_,” Baki spits in disbelief. “You're the Hero of Suna, how could you—”

“I _was_ the Hero of Suna,” Pakura interrupts unflinchingly. “But then Rasa traded my life to Kiri without bothering to inform me, and I was betrayed. I'm not a Suna nin anymore.”

“Leave him here,” Yashamaru says, finally glancing up from Gaara. “Baki, you're Gaara's guard, aren’t you? I’ll let you stay as long as you realize that I’ll never give him up again.”

Baki's expression twists. “I'm not going to—”

Yashamaru generally knows what he’s doing, so Obito inclines his head. “I’m sealing his chakra,” he warns Yashamaru, who looks unbothered.

“Good,” he says. “And put a tracking seal on him, too, so that you can transport him back here if he runs.”

“You can't expect me to go along with this, Yashamaru!” Baki snarls.

“Of course I can,” Yashamaru says, perfectly even, and looks up, meeting Baki's eyes. “You know what I was ordered to do, Baki. And you know how Gaara's been treated by his own _father_. The father who made him a jinchuuriki in the first place.”

With a breath that’s almost rueful, Pakura folds her arms over her chest. “You’re not heartless,” she agrees, then turns. “I’ll send Sasori up to place the seals,” she says, and smiles at Baki's sound of indignation.

“Quite the little club of traitors,” she says pointedly, and stalks out of the room, cloak whirling behind her.


End file.
